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O'NBliUBRARY 
BOSTON  COaEGE 


Ml  ( 


GUILTY,  OR    NOT  OUILTYt" 


cf 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK; 

Or,  protests  of  IRISH  PATRIOTISM. 


THE  MANCHESTER  TRAGEDY,  AND  THE  CRUISE  OP 
THE  PACKET  JACKMEL 


"THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN;" 

Oii«THS  PROSBCUTfiD  FUNERAL  PROCBSSIQN,  BlC 


r.  D.  SULLIVAN,  A.  M.  SULLIVAN,  and  D.  H  SULLIVAH 


CONTAININO 

With  Introductory  Sketches  and  Biographical  Notices,  Speeches  delivered 

in  the  Dock,  by 


THEOBALD  WOLFE  TONE, 
WILLL\M  ORR, 
THE  BROTHERS  SHEARES, 
ROBERT  EMMET, 
THOMAS  RUSSELL, 
JOHN  MITCHEL, 
JOHN  MARTIN,  (1848) 
WILLIAM  SMITH  O'BRIEN, 
THOMAS  FRANCIS  MEAGHER, 
TERENCE  BELLEW  MacMANUS 
WILLIAM  P.  ALLEN, 
MICHAEL  LARKIN, 
MICHAEL  O'BRIEN 
THOMAS  C.  LUBY, 


JOHN  O'LEARY, 
CHARLES  J.  KICKHAM, 
J.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA, 
COLONEL  THOMAS  F.  BURKB, 
CAPTAIN  JOHN  McAFFERTY, 
STEPHEN  J.  MEANY, 
EDWARD  DUFFY, 
CAPTAIN  JOHN  McCLURE, 
JOHN  EDWARD  KELLY, 
COLONEL  JOHN  WARREN, 
AUGUSTINE  E.  COSTELLO, 
CAPTAIN  MACKAY, 
A.  M.  SULLIVAN, 
JOHN  MARTIN,  (186^ 


NEW  YORK: 
P.  J.  KENEDY,  Excelsior  Cattt-lic  Pu3li=hing  House,  5  Barclay  StreBT. 

1904. 


MICHAEL  D.lYiTT. 


MISS    FAIVNF    PARNELL, 
Financial  J9e«'rftnr.y  of  tli«  *'  L<a«Ue»*  l^au^  l^ioataril^^ 


PART    1. 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK; 


cm 


PROTESTS  OF  IRISH  PATRIOTISM. 


SPEECHES  DELIVERED  AFTER  CONVICTION, 


BY 


THEOBALD  WOLFE  TONS, 

WILLIAM  ORR, 

THE  BROTHERS  SHEARES, 

ROBERT  EMMET, 

JOHN  MARTIN,  (1848) 

WILLIAM  SMITH  O'BRIEN, 

THOMAS  FRANCIS  MEAGHER, 


TERENCE  BELLEW  MacMANUI, 
JOHN  MITCHEL, 
THOMAS  C.  LUBY, 
JOHN  O'LEARY, 
CHARLES  J.  KICKHAM, 
COLONEL  THOMAS  F.  BURKB, 
CAPTAIN  MACKAY. 


Freedom's  battle,  once  be^n,— 
Bequeath" d  from  bleeding  sire  to  BOO,-* 
Though  baffled  oft,  is  ever  woo." 


NEW  YORK: 
f,  J.  KENEDY,  Excelsior  Catholic  Publishing  House,  5  Barclay  Street. 


JOSTOlsT 


v  -1? 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

Bv  Page. 

Introductory D.  B.  S.  .  .  7 

Theobald  Wolfe  Tone T.  D.  S.  .  .  13 

William  Orr D.  B.  S.  .  .  27 

Henry  and  John  Sheares D.  B.  S.  .  31 

Robert  Emmet T.  D.  S.  .  .  37 

Thomas  Russell D.  B.  S.  .  .  52 

John  Mitchel T.  D.  S.  .  .  69 

John  Martin D.  B.  S.  .  .  89 

W.  S.  O'Brien D.  B.  S.  .  ,  103 

T.  F.  Meagher D.  B.  S.  .  .  128 

Kevin  Izod  O'Doherty D.  B.  S.  .  .  138 

Terence  Bellew  MacManus D.  B.  S.  .  142 

Thomas  Clarke  Luby T.  D.  S.  .  .  146 

John  O'Leary T.  D.  S.  .  .  162 

J.  O' Donovan  (Rossa) T.  D.  S.  .  .  165 

Bryan  Dillon,  John  Lynch,  and  others    .     .     .  T.  D.  S.  .  .  167 

Charles  J.  Kickham T.  D.  S.  .  .  177 

Thomas  F.  Burke D.  B.  S.  .  .  180 

John  M'Afferty T.  D.  S.  .  .  191 

Edward  Duffy,  S.  J.  Meaney,  and  John  McClure  T.  D.  S.  .  .  195 

Edward  Kelly  and  Captain  Mackay    .     .     .     .  T.  D.  S.  .  .  210 


PART  II. 

The  Dock  and  the  Scaffold     .     .     .     .     A.  M.  S.  and  D.  B.  S.    .     233 

The  Cruise  of  the  Jackmel  (Colonel  War- 
ren, Augustine  E.  Costello,  General  W. 
Halpin) T.  D.  S.     .    .     291 


PART  III. 


The  Wearing  of  the  Green;  or,  the  Prosecuted 

Funeral  Procession A.  M.  S    .    .    327 


I^ 


l^^^ 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

'o  the  lovers  of  Ireland— to  those  who  sympathize  with 
her  sufferings  and  resent  her  wrongs,  there  can  be  few 
things  more  interesting  than  the  history  of  the  strug- 
'M,     gles  which  sprang  from    devotion  to  her  cause,  and 
(3      were  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  her  patriots.     The 
^    efforts  of  the  Irish  race  to  burst  the  fetters  that  for- 
eign force  and  native  dissensions  imposed  on  them,  and  elevate 
their  country  from  bondage  and  degradation  tc  a  place  amongst 
free  nations,  f^ll  a  page  in  the  world's  history  which  no   lover  of 
freedom  can   read  without    emotion,  and  which    must  excite 
wonder,  admiration,  and  regret  in  the  mind  of  every  man  with 
whom  patriotism  is  not  a  reproach,  and  who  can  sympathize 
with  a  cause  ennobled  by  fidelity  and  sacrifice,  and  sanctified 
by  the  blood  and  tears  of  a  nation.     ''  How  hands  so  vile  could 
conquer  hearts  so  brave,"  is  the  question  which  our  National 
Poet  supposes  to  arise  in  the  mind  of  the  stranger,  as  he  looks 
on  the  spectacle  of  Ireland  in  her  decay;  but  another  question 
will  suggest  itself  to  those  who  study  the  history  of  our  country ; 
it  is,  how  a  feeling  so  deeply  rooted  as  the  love  of  independence 
is  in  the  hearts  of  the  Irish  people— an  aspiration  so  warmly 
and  so  widely  entertained— which  has  been  clung  to  with  so 
much    persistency— which  has    survived  through    centuries    of 
persecution— for  which  generations  have  arisen,  anc  fought,  and 
bled,  and  dashed   themselves   against  the   power  of    England 


g  SFEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

with  a  succession  as  unbroken  as  that  of  the  waves  upon  our  shores 
— a  cause  so  universally  loved,  so  deeply  reverenced,  and  so 
unflinchingly  supported  by  a  brave  and  intrepid  race,  should 
never  have  attained  the  blessing  of  success.  A  more  signal  in- 
stance than  that  which  Ireland  can  supply  of  the  baffling  of  a 
nation'b  hope,  the  prolonged  fiustration  of  a  people's  will,  is 
not  on  record ;  and  few  even  of  those  who  most  condemn  the 
errors  and  weakness  by  which  Irishmen  themselves  have  re- 
tarded the  national  object,  will  hesitate  to  say  that  they  have 
given  to  mankind  the  noblest  proof  they  possess  of  the  vitality 
of  the  principles  of  freedom,  and  the  indestructibility  of 
national  sentiment. 

It  is  for  us,  however,  Irish  of  the  Irish,  that  the  history  of 
the  struggle  for  Ireland's  rights  possesses  most  attractions.  We 
live  amidst  the  scenes  where  the  battles  against  the  stranger 
were  fought,  and  where  the  men  who  waged  them  lived  and 
died.  The  bones  of  the  patriots  who  labored  for  Ireland,  and 
of  those  who  died  for  her,  repose  in  the  graveyards  around  us; 
and  we  have  still  amongst  us  the  inheritors  of  their  blood, 
their  name,  and  their  spirit.  It  was  to  make  us  free — to  render 
independent  and  prosperous  the  nation  to  which  we  belong- 
that  the  pike  was  lifted  and  the  green  flag  raised ;  and  it  was  in 
furtherance  of  this  object,  on  which  the  hearts  of  Irishmen  are 
still  set,  that  the  men  whose  names  shine  through  the  pages  on 
which  the  story  of  Ireland's  struggles  for  national  existence  is 
written,  suffered  and  died.  To  follow  out  that  mournful  but 
absorbing  story  is  not,  however,  the  object  aimed  at  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages.  The  history  of  Ireland  is  no  longer  a  sealed 
volume  to  the  people;  more  than  one  author  h?s  told  it  truth- 
fully and  well,  and  the  list  of  books  devoted  to  it  is  every  day 
receiving  valuable  accessions.  Nor  has  it  even  been  attempted, 
in  this  little  work,  though  trenching  more  closely  on  its  subject, 
to  trace  the  career  and  sketch  the  lives  of  the  men  who  fill  the 
foremost  places  in  the  ranks  of  Ireland's  political  martyrs.  In 
the  subjoined  pages  little  more  will  be  found  than  a  correct  re- 
port of  the  addresses  delivered,  under  certain  peculiar  circum- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


9 


stances,  by  the  group  of  Irishmea  whose  names  are  given  on 
the  title  page.  A  single  public  utterance  from  the  lips  of  each 
of  these  gentlemen  is  all  that  we  have  printed,  though  it  would 
be  easy  to  supplement  them  in  nearly  every  case  by  writings 
and  speeches  owning  a  similar  authorship,  equally  eloquent,  and 
equally  patriotic.  But  the  speeches  given  here  are  associated 
with  facts  which  give  them  peculiar  value  and  significance,  and 
were  spoken  under  circumstances  which  lend  to  them  a  solemn 
interest  and  impressiveness  which  could  not  otherwise  be  ob- 
tained. They  reach  us — these  dock  speeches,  in  which  nobility 
of  purpose  and  chivalrous  spirit  is  expressed — like  voices  from 
the  tomb,  like  messages  from  beyond  the  grave,  brimful  of  les- 
sons of  dignity  and  patriotism.  We  can  see  the  men  who  spoke 
them  standing  before  the  representatives  of  the  government 
whose  oppression  had  driven  them  to  revolt,  when  the  solemn 
farce  of  trying  them  for  a  crime  which  posterit)^  will  account  a 
virtue  had  terminated,  and  when  the  verdict  of  "guilty"  had 
gladdened  the  hear^-s  of  their  accusers.  The  circumstances 
under  which  they  spoke  might  well  cause  a  bold  man  to  falter. 
They  were  about  parting  forever  from  all  that  makes  life  dear 
to  man;  and,  for  some  of  them,  the  sentence  which  was  to  cut 
short  the  thread  of  their  existence,  to  consign  them  to  a  bloody 
and  ignominious  death,  to  leave  their  bodies  mutilated  corpses, 
from  which  the  rights  of  Christian  burial  were  to  be  withheld — 
which  was  to  assign  them  the  death  of  a  dog,  and  to  follow 
them  with  persecuting  hand  into  the  valley  of  death — was 
about  to  fall  from  the  lips  of  the  judges  whom  they  addressed. 
Against  others  a  fate  less  repulsive,  perhaps,  to  the  feelings  of 
humanity,  but  certainly  not  more  merciful,  and  hardly  less 
painful  and  appalling,  was  about  to  be  decreed.  Recent  revela- 
tions have  thrown  some  light  on  the  horrors  endured  by  the 
Irish  political  prisoners  who  languish  within  the  prison-pens  of 
England ;  but  it  needs  far  more  than  a  stray  letter,  a  half-stifled 
cry  from  the  dungeon  depths,  to  enable  the  public  to  realize  the 
misery,  the  wretchedness,  and  the  degradation  attached  to  the 
condition   to   which    England   reduces   her   political   convicts. 


lO  SPEECHES  FPOM    THE  DOCK, 

Condemned  to  associate  with  the  vilest  of  the  scoundrels  bred 
by  the  immorality  and  godlessness  of  England — exposed,  with- 
out possibility  of  redress,  to  the  persecutions  of  brutal,  coarse« 
minded  men,  accustomed  to  deal  only  with  ruffians  than  whom 
beasts  are  less  ferocious  and  unreclaimable — restricted  to  a 
course  of  discipline  which  blasts  the  vigor  of  the  body,  and  under 
whose  influence  reason  herself  totters  upon  her  throne — the  Irish 
rebel  against  whom  the  doom  of  penal  servitude  has  been  pro- 
nounced is  condemned  to  the  most  hideous  and  agonizing  pun- 
ishments to  which  men  of  their  class  could  be  exposed.  It  was 
with  such  terrors  staring  them  in  the  face  that  the  men  whose 
words  are  recorded  in  this  little  work  delivered  their  speeches 
from  the  dock.  It  is  surely  something  for  us,  their  countrymen, 
to  boast  of,  that  neither  in  their  bearing  nor  in  their  words 
was  there  manifested  the  slightest  trace  of  weakness,  the  faint- 
est exhibition  of  any  feeling  which  could  show  that  their  hearts 
were  accessible  to  the  terror  which  their  situation  was  so  well 
calculated  to  inspire.  No  cheek  grew  pale,  no  eyes  lost  their 
light — their  tones  were  unbroken,  and  their  manner  undaunted 
as  ever,  as  these  men  uttered  the  words  we  purpose  recording. 
Their  language  tells  of  minds  which  persecution  could  not  sub- 
due, and  for  which  death  itself  possessed  no  sting;  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  expressed  showed  that,  in  their  case, 
elevation  of  sentiment  was  allied  with  unconquerable  firmness 
and  resolution.  Never  were  lessons  so  noble  more  boldly 
preached.  It  is  in  courts  of  justice,  after  all,  declares  a  great 
English  authority,  that  the  lessons  of  morality  are  best  taught ; 
and  in  Ireland  the  truthfulness  of  the  assertion  is  estabHshed. 
But  it  is  not  from  the  bench  or  the  jury-box  that  the  words 
have  fallen  in  which  the  cause  of  morality  and  justice  has  been 
vindicated;  venality,  passion,  and  prejudice  have  but  too  often 
swayed  the  decisions  of  both ;  and  it  is  to  the  dock  we  must 
turn  when  we  seek  for  honor,  integrity,  and  patriotism. 

We  owe  it  to  the  men  who  suffered  so  unflinchingly  in  the 
cause  of  our  country,  and  who  have  left  us  so  precious  a  heri- 
tage in  the  speeches  in  which  they  hurled  a  last  defiance  at 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  \\ 

their  oppressors,  that  their  names  should  not  be  forgotten,  or 
the  recollection  of  their  acts  suffered  to  grow  cold.  The  no- 
blest incentive  to  patriotism,  as  it  is  the  highest  reward  which 
this  world  can  offer  those  who  dare  and  suffer  for  fatherland,  is 
the  gratitude,  the  sympathy,  and  the  applause  of  the  people 
for  whom  they  labored.  We  owe  it  to  the  brave  men  whose 
patriotism  is  attested  in  the  addresses  comprised  in  this  volume, 
that  the  memory  of  their  noble  deeds  shall  not  pass  away,  and 
that  their  names  shall  remain  enshrined  in  the  hearts 
of  their  countrymen.  They  failed,  it  is  true,  to  accom- 
plish what  they  attempted,  and  the  battle  to  which  they  devoted 
themselves  has  yet  to  be  won;  but  we  know  that  they,  at  least, 
did  their  part  courageously  and  well  ;  and,  looking  back  now 
upon  the  stormy  scenes  of  their  labors,  and  contrasting  the 
effects  of  their  sacrifices  with  the  cost  at  which  they  were 
made,  the  people  of  Ireland  are  still  prepared  to  accept  the 
maxim  that — 

•'  'Tis  better  to  have  fought  and  lost, 
Than  never  to  have  fought  at  all." 

While  such  men  can  be  found  to  suffer  as  they  have  suffered 
for  Ireland,  the  ultimate  triumph  of  her  aspirations  cannot  be 
doubted,  nor  can  the  national  faith  be  despaired  of  while  it  has 
martyrs  so  numerous  and  so  heroic.  It  is  by  example  that 
the  great  lessons  of  patriotism  can  best  be  conveyed ;  and  if 
the  national  spirit  burn  brightly  to-day  in  Ireland — if  the  spirit 
of  her  children  be  still  defiant  and  unsubdued — if,  at  home  and 
in  the  far  West,  the  hearts  of  the  Irish  people  still  throb  with 
the  emotions  that  prompted  Emmet  and  Wolfe  Tone — if  their 
eyes  are  still  hot  to  see  the  independence  of  their  country,  their 
arms  still  ready  to  strike,  and  their  spirit  still  ready  to  sacrifice 
for  the  accomplishment  of  that  object,  we  owe  the  result  largely 
to  the  men  whose  names  are  inscribed  in  this  little  work,  and 
whose  memory  it  is  intended  to  perpetuate. 

We  have  commenced  our  series  with  the  speech  of  Theobald 
Wolfe  Tone,  and  our  record  stretches  no  further  back  than  the 
memorable  insurrection  of  lygS.     If  our  object  were  to  group 


12  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

together  the  Irishmen  who  arc  known  to  have  struggled  for  the 
independence  of  their  country,  and  who  suffered  for  their  attach- 
ment to  her  cause,  we  might  go  much  farther  back  into  history, 
and  indefinitely  increase  the  bulk  of  this  publication.  We  fix  the 
insurrection  of  '98  as  the  limit  of  our  collection,  chiefly  because 
it  was  at  that  time  trials  for  high  treason  in  Ireland  assumed 
the  precise  meaning  and  significance  which  they  now  possess, 
and  there  is  consequently,  in  the  speeches  which  follow,  such  a 
unity  of  purpose  and  sentiment  as  renders  them  especially  suit- 
able for  presentation  in  a  single  volume.  Only  seventy  years 
have  elapsed  since  Wolfe  Tone  spoke  to  the  question  why 
sentence  should  not  be  pronounced  on  him — only  two-thirds  of 
a  century  since  Emmet  vindicated  the  cause  of  his  country 
from  the  Green  Street  dock,  and  already  what  2  host  of  imita- 
tors and  disciples  have  they  had  !  There  is  not  a  country  in 
Europe,  there  is  not  a  nationality  in  the  world,  can  produce 
such  another  collection  as  that  which  we  to-day  lay  before  the 
people  of  Ireland.  We  live  under  a  government  which  claims 
to  be  just,  liberal,  and  constitutional,  yet  against  no  other  gov- 
ernment in  Christendom  have  the  same  number  of  protests  been 
made  within  the  same  space  of  time.  Not  Poland,  not  Hungary, 
not  Venetia,  can  point  to  such  an  unbroken  succession  of  pol- 
itical martyrs.  The  pages  of  history  contain  nothing  to  com- 
pare with  the  little  volume  we  to-day  place  in  the  hands  of  our 
countrymen  ;  and  we  know  of  no  more  powerful  and  eloquent 
condemnation  of  the  system  on  which  Ireland  is  governed,  than 
that  contained  in  the  simple  fact  that  all  those  speeches  were 
spoken,  all  those  trials  carried  out,  all  those  sentences  decreed, 
within  the  lifetime  of  a  single  generation.  It  is  idle  to  think  of 
subduing  a  people  who  make  so  many  sacrifices,  and  who  are 
undaunted  still  ;  it  is  vain  to  think  of  crushing  a  spirit  which 
survives  so  much  persecution.  The  exeuctioner  and  the  gaoler, 
the  gibbet,  the  block,  and  the  dungeon,  have  done  their  work 
in  the  crusade  against  Irish  Nationality,  and  we  know  what  the 
result  is  to-day.  The  words  of  the  last  political  convict  whose 
name  appears  in  these  pages  are  as  uncompromising  and  as  bold 


fF= 


THEOBALD   WOLFE  TONE 
From  a  Portrait  by  his  Dauffhtcr-in-laic,  Mrs,  Sampson  Tone, 


J 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


n 


as  those  of  the  first  of  his  predecessors  ;  and,  studying  the  spirit 
which  they  have  exhibited,  and  marking  the  effect  of  their  con- 
duct  on  the  bulk  of  their  countrymen,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
the  conclusion,  that  so  much  persistent  resolution  and  heroism 
must  one  day  eventuate  in  success,  and  that  Ireland,  the  country 
for  which  so  many  brave  men  have  suffered  with  such  unfalter- 
ing courage,  is  not  destined  to  disprove  the  rule  that— 

"  Freedom's  battle  once  begun, — 

Bequeath'd  from  bleeding  sire  to  son"-* 
Though  baffled  oft,  is  ever  won." 


THEOBALD  WOLFE  TONE. 

O  name  is  more  intimately  associated  with  the  na- 
tional movement  of  1798  than  that  of  Theobald 
Wolfe  Tone.  He  was  its  main-spring,  its  leading 
spirit.  Many  men  connected  with  it  possessed,  as  he 
did,  brilliant  talents,  unfailing  courage  and  deter- 
mination, and  an  intense  devotion  to  the  cause ;  but 
the  order  of  his  genius  raised  him  above  them  all,  and  marked 
him  out  from  the  first  as  the  head  and  front  of  the  patriot  party. 
He  was  one  of  the  original  founders  of  the  Society  of  United 
Irishmen,  which  was  formed  in  Belfast  in  the  year  1791.  In 
its  early  days  this  society  was  simply  a  sort  of  reform  associa- 
tion, a  legal  and  constitutional  body,  having  for  its  chief  object 
the  removal  of  the  frightful  oppressions  by  which  the  Catholic 
people  of  Ireland  were  tortured  and  disgraced;  but  in  the 
troubled  and  protentous  condition  of  home  and  foreign  poli- 
tics, the  society  could  not  long  retain  this  character.  The  fu' 
tility  of  seeking  a  redress  of  the  national  grievances  by  parlia- 
mentary means  was  becoming  apparent  to  every  understanding. 
The  system  of  outrage  and  injustice  towards  the  Catholics,  un- 
abating  in  its  severity,  continued  to  exasperate  the  actual  su^er- 


H 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK, 


ers  and  to  offend  all  men  of  humane  feelings  and  enlightened 
principles ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  electric  influence  of  the 
American  War  of  Independence  and  the  French  Revolution 
was  operating  powerfully  in  every  heart,  evoking  there  the  as- 
piration for  Irish  freedom,  and  inspiring  a  belief  in  its  possible 
attainment.  In  the  midst  of  such  exciting  circumstances  the 
society  could  not  continue  to  stand  on  its  original  basis.  In 
the  year  1794,  after  a  debate  among  the  members,  followed  by 
the  withdrawal  of  the  more  moderate  or  timid  among  them 
from  its  ranks,  it  assumed  the  form  and  character  of  a  secret 
revolutionary  organization ;  and  Tone,  Thomas  Addis  Emmet, 
Samuel  Neilson,  Thomas  Russell,  James  Napper  Tandy,  with 
a  number  of  other  patriotic  gentlemen  in  Belfast,  Dublin,  and 
other  parts  of  the  country,  soon  found  themselves  in  the  full 
swing  of  an  insurrectionary  movement,  plotting  and  planning 
for  the  complete  overthrow  of  British  power  in  Ireland.  Thence- 
forward, for  some  time,  the  organization  went  on  rapidly,  ex- 
tending through  the  Province  of  Ulster,  in  the  first  instance, 
and  subsequently  over  most  of  the  midland  and  southern  coun- 
ties. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when,  in  the  early  part  of  1794, 
an  emissary  from  the  French  government  arrived  in  Ireland,  to 
ascertain  to  what  extent  the  Irish  people  were  likely  to  co-op- 
perate  with  France  in  a  war  against  England.  This  individual 
was  the  Rev.  William  Jackson,  an  Irish  Protestant  clergyman, 
who  had  for  some  years  been  resident  in  France,  and  had  be- 
come thoroucrhlv  imbued  with  Democratic  and  Republican 
principles.  Unfortunately,  he  was  not  one  of  the  most  prudent 
of  envoys.  He  revealed  his  mission  to  an  acquaintance  of  his, 
an  English  attorney,  named  Cockayne,  who  repaid  his  confi- 
dence by  betraying  his  secrets  to  the  government.  Cockayne 
was  immediately  employed  as  a  spy  upon  Jackson's  further 
proceedings,  in  which  capacity  he  accompanied  his  unsuspect- 
ing victim  to  Ireland,  and  acquired  cognizance  of  most  of  his 
negotiations.  On  the  28th  of  April,  1794,  Jackson  was  arrested 
on  a  charge  of  high  treason.     He  was  brought  to  speedy  trial, 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  IJ 

n^as  found  guilty,  but  was  not  sentenced,  for,  on  the  day  on 
which  the  law's  award  was  to  have  been  announced  to  him,  he 
contrived,  before  entering  the  court,  to  swallow  a  dose  of  poison, 
from  the  effect  of  which  he  expired  in  the  dock.  Tone,  with 
whom  Jackson  was  known  to  have  been  in  confidential  commu- 
nication, was  placed  by  those  events  in  a  very  critical  position  ; 
owing,  however,  to  some  influence  which  had  been  made  with 
the  government  on  his  behalf,  he  was  permitted  to  exile  him- 
self to  America.  As  he  had  entered  into  no  engagement  with 
the  government  regarding  his  future  line  of  conduct,  he  made 
his  expatriation  the  means  of  forwarding,  in  the  most  effective 
manner,  the  designs  he  had  at  heart.  He  left  Dublin  for  Phil- 
adelphia on  the  20th  of  May,  1795.  One  of  his  first  acts,  after 
arriving,  was  to  present  to  the  French  Minister  there  resident 
a  memorial  on  the  state  of  Ireland.  During  the  remaining 
months  of  the  year  letters  from  his  old  friends  came  pouring 
in  on  him,  describing  the  brightening  prospects  of  the  cause  at 
home,  and  urging  him  to  proceed  to  the  French  capital  and  im- 
press upon  the  Directory  the  policy  of  despatching  at  once  an 
expedition  to  ensure  the  success  of  the  Irish  revolutionary 
movement. 

Tone  was  not  the  man  to  disregard  such  representations. 
He  had  at  the  time  a  fair  prospect  of  securing  a  comfortable  in- 
dependence in  America,  but  with  the  full  concurrence  of  his 
heroic  wife,  who  had  accompanied  him  across  the  Atlantic,  he 
sacrificed  those  chances  and  resumed  the  perilous  duties  of  an 
Irish  patriot.  On  the  ist  of  January,  1796,  he  left  New  York 
for  Paris,  to  try  what  he  could  do  as  a  diplomatist  for  the  cause 
of  Ireland.  Arrived  at  the  French  capital,  he  had  his  business 
communicated  to  the  Directory  through  the  medium  of  an  Irish 
gentleman,  named  Madgett,  and  also  by  memorial,  representing 
always  that  the  landing  of  a  force  of  20,000  men  in  Ireland, 
with  a  supply  of  arms  for  the  peasantry,  would  ensure  the  sep- 
aration of  Ireland  from  England.  Not  satisfied  with  the  slow 
progress  he  was  thus  achieving,  he  went,  on  the  24th  of  Febru. 
ary,  direct  to  the  Luxemburg  Palace,  and  sought  and  obtained 


l6  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIC. 

an  interview  with  the  War  Minister,  the  celebrated  Carnot,  the 
*'  organizer  of  victory."  The  Minister  received  him  well,  list* 
cned  attentively  to  his  statements,  discussed  his  project  with 
him,  and  appeared  much  impressed  with  the  prospects  it  pre- 
sented. The  result  was  that  on  the  i6th  of  December,  in  the 
same  year,  a  splendid  expedition  sailed  from  Brest  for  Ireland. 
It  consisted  of  seventeen  sail  of  the  line,  thirteen  frigates,  and 
fifteen  transports,  with  some  smaller  craft,  and  had  on  board 
15,000  troops,  with  a  large  supply  of  arms  for  the  Irish  patriots. 
Tone  himself,  who  had  received  the  rank  of  Adjutant-General 
in  the  French  service,  was  on  board  one  of  the  vessels.  Had 
this  force  been  disembarked  on  the  shores  of  Ireland,  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  doubt  that  the  separation  of  this  country  from  Eng- 
land would  have  been  effected.  But  the  expedition  was  unfor- 
tunate from  the  outset.  It  was  scattered  on  the  voyage  during 
a  gale  of  wind,  and  the  Admiral's  vessel,  with  Hoche,  the  com- 
mander, on  board,  was  separated  from  the  others.  A  portion 
of  the  expedition  entered  the  magnificent  Bay  of  Bantry  and 
waited  there  several  days  in  expectation  of  being  rejoined  by 
the  vessel  containing  the  Admiral  and  commander;  but  they 
waited  in  vain.  Tone  vehemently  urged  that  a  landing  should 
be  effected  with  the  forces  then  at  hand — some  6,500  men — but 
the  officers  procrastinated,  time  was  lost,  the  wind,  which  had 
been  blowing  from  the  east  (that  is  out  the  harbor),  rose  to  a 
perfect  hurricane,  and  on  the  27th  and  28th  of  the  month  the 
vessels  cut  their  cables  and  made  the  best  of  their  way  for 
France. 

This  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the  hopes  of  the  Irish  organizer. 
Rage  and  sadness  filled  his  heart  by  turns  as  the  fierce  storm 
blew  his  vessel  out  of  the  bay  and  across  the  sea  to  the  land 
which  he  had  left  under  such  favorable  auspices.  But  yet  he 
did  not  resign  himself  to  despair.  As  the  patient  spider  renews 
her  web  again  and  again  after  it  has  been  torn  asunder,  so  did 
this  indefatigable  patriot  set  to  work  to  repair  the  misfortune 
that  had  occurred,  and  to  build  up  another  project  of  assistance 
for  his  unfortunate  country.     His  perseverance  was  not  unpro- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  1 7 

ductive  of  results.  The  Batavian  or  Dutch  Republic,  then  in 
alliance  with  France,  took  up  the  project  that  had  failed  in  the 
Bay  of  Bantry.  In  the  month  of  July,  1797,  they  had  assem- 
bled in  the  Texel  an  expedition  for  the  invasion  of  Ireland, 
nearly,  if  not  quite,  as  formidable  in  men  and  ships  as  that 
which  had  left  Brest  in  the  previous  year.  Tone  was  on  board 
the  flag-ship,  even  more  joyous  and  hopeful  than  he  had  been 
on  the  preceding  occasion.  But  again,  as  if  by  some  extraor- 
dinary fatality,  the  weather  interposed  an  obstacle  to  the  reali- 
zation of  the  design.  The  vessels  were  ready  for  sea,  the  troops 
were  on  board,  nothing  was  wanted  but  a  slant  of  wind  to  en- 
able the  fleet  to  get  out.  But  for  five  weeks  it  continued  to  blow 
steadily  in  the  adverse  direction.  The  supplies  ran  low ;  the 
patience  of  the  officers,  and  of  the  government,  became  ex- 
hausted— the  troops  were  disembarked  and  the  project  aban- 
doned !  The  second  failure  in  a  matter  of  such  weight  and  im- 
portance was  a  heavy  blow  to  the  heart  of  the  brave  Tone. 
Elaborate  and  costly  efforts  like  those  which  had  ended  so 
poorly,  he  felt  could  not  often  be  repeated ;  the  drift  of  the 
war  was  cutting  out  other  work  for  the  fleets  and  armies  of 
France  and  her  allies,  and  the  unwelcome  conviction  began  to 
settle  darkly  on  his  mind  that  never  again  would  he  see  such 
a  vision  of  hope  for  dear  Ireland,  as  that  which  had  shone  be- 
fore him  on  these  two  occasions,  and  vanished  in  doubt  and 
gloom. 

Yet  there  was  no  need  to  despair.  Assurances  reached  Tone 
every  day  that  the  defeat  and  humiliation  of  England  was  a  set- 
tled resolve  of  the  French  government,  one  which  they  would 
never  abandon.  And  for  a  time  everything  seemed  to  favor  the 
notion  that  a  direct  stroke  at  the  heart  of  England  was  intended. 
In  the  latter  part  of  1797  the  Directory  ordered  the  formation 
of  ''The  Army  of  England,"  the  command  of  which  was  given 
to  General  Bonaparte.  Tone's  heart  again  beat  high  with 
hope,  for  now  matters  looked  more  promising  than  ever.  He 
was  in  constant  communication  with  some  of  the  chief  officers 
of  the  expedition,  and  in  the  month  of  December  he  had  sev- 


1 8  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

eral  interviews  with  Bonaparte  himself,  which,  however,  he  could 
hardly  consider  of  a  satisfactory  nature.  On  the  20th  of  May, 
1798,  General  Bonaparte  embarked  on  board  the  fleet  at  Tou- 
Ion  and  sailed  off — not  for  Ireland  or  England,  but  for  Egypt, 
On  the  Irish  leaders  at  home  these  repeated  disappointments 
fell  with  terrible  effect.  The  condition  of  the  country  was  daily 
growing  more  critical.  The  government,  now  thoroughly  roused 
and  alarmed,  and  persuaded  that  the  time  for  ''vigorous  meas- 
ures" had  arrived,  was  grappling  with  the  conspiracy  in  all  di- 
rections. Still  those  men  would,  if  they  could,  have  got  the 
people  to  possess  their  souls  in  patience,  and  wait  for  aid  from 
abroad  before  unfurling  the  banner  of  insurrection  ;  for  they 
were  constant  in  their  belief  that  without  the  presence  of  a  dis- 
ciplined army  on  Irish  soil  to  consolidate  their  strength  and  di- 
rect it,  a  revolutionary  effort  of  the  Irish  people  could  end  only 
in  disaster.  But  the  government  had  reasons  of  their  own  for 
wishing  to  set  an  Irish  rebellion  afoot  at  this  time,  and  they 
took  measures  to  precipitate  the  rising.  The  arrest  of  the  dele- 
gates at  the  house  of  Oliver  Bond  in  Dublin,  and  the  capture 
of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  contributed  to  this  end  ;  but  these 
things  the  country  might  have  peaceably  endured,  if  no  more 
dreadful  trial  had  been  put  upon  it.  What  could  not  be  en- 
dured was  the  system  of  riot,  and  outrage,  and  murder,  to  which 
the  unfortunate  peasantry  were  then  given  over.  Words  fail 
to  describe  its  cruelty  and  its  horrors.  It  was  too  much  for 
human  nature  to  bear.  On  the  23rd  of  May,  three  days  after 
Bonaparte  had  sailed  from  Toulon  for  Alexandria,  the  Irish  in- 
surrection broke  out.  The  news  of  the  occurrence  created  the 
most  intense  excitement  among  the  Irish  refugees  then  in  Paris. 
Tone  rushed  to  and  fro,  to  the  Directory  and  to  the  gen- 
erals, pleading  for  the  dispatch  of  some  assistance  to  his  strug- 
gling countrymen.  Various  plans  were  suggested  and  taken 
into  consideration,  but  while  time  was  being  wasted  in  this  way, 
the  military  forces  of  the  British  government  were  rapidly  sup- 
pressing the  insurrection  of  the  unarmed  and  undisciplined  Irish 
peasantry.      In  this  condition  of  affairs,  a  gallant  but  rash  and 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  ig 

indiscreet    French  officer,  General    Humbert,  resolved  that   he 
would  commit  the  Directory  to  action,  by  starting  at  once  with 
a  small  force  for  the  coast  of  Ireland.     Towards  the  middle  of 
August,  calling   together    the  merchants    and    magistrates    of 
Rochelle,  "  he  forced  them  to  advance  a  small  sum  of  money, 
and  all  that  he  wanted,  on  military  requisition ;  and  embarking 
on  board  a  few  frigates  and  transports  with   i,ooo  men,  i,ooo 
spare  muskets,  i,cxx)  guineas,  and  a  few  pieces  of  artillery,  he 
compelled  the  captains  to  set  sail  for  the   most  desperate  at- 
tempt which  is,  perhaps,  recorded  in  history  "     Three  Irishmen 
were  on  board  the  fleet — Matthew  Tone,  brother  to  Theobald, 
Bartholomew  Teeling,  and  Sullivan,  an  officer  in  the  French 
service,  who  was  enthuiastically  devoted  to  the  Irish  cause,  and 
had  rendered  much  aid  to  his  patriotic  countrymen  in  France. 
Humbert  landed  at  Killala,  routed  with  his  little   handful  of 
men  a  large  force  of  the  royal  troops,  and  held  his  ground  until 
General    Lake,  with  20,000  men,  marched  against  him.     After 
a  resistance  sufficient  to  maintain  the  honor  of  the  French  arms, 
Humbert's  little    force  surrendered  as    prisoners  of   war.     The 
Irish  who  had  joined  his  standard  were  shown  no  mercy.     The 
peasantry  were  cruelly  butchered.     Of  those  who  had  accom- 
panied  him  from  France,  Sullivan,  who  was  able  to  pass  as  a 
Frenchman,  escaped ;  Teeling  and  Matthew  Tone  were  brought 
in  irons  to  Dublin,  tried,  and  executed.     The  news  of  Hum- 
bert's expedition  and  the  temporary  success  that  had  attended 
it  created  much  excitement    in   France,  and  stirred  up  the  Di- 
rectory to  attempt  something  for  Ireland  more  worthy  of  the 
fame  and  power  of    the    French  nation,  and    more  in   keeping 
with  their  repeated  promises  to  the  leaders  of  the  Irish  move- 
ment.    But  their  fleet  was  at  the  time  greatly  reduced,  and  their 
resources  were  in  a  state  of  disorganization.     They  mustered 
for  the  expedition  only  one  sail  of    the  line  and  eight  small 
frigates,  commanded  by  Commodore  Bompart,  conveying  5,000 
men,  under  the  leadership  of  General  Hardy.     On  board  the 
Admiral's  vessel,  which  was  named  the  Hoche,  was  the  heroic 
Theobald  Wolfe  Tone.     He  knew  this  expedition  had  no  chance 


20  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCIT, 

of  success,  but  he  had  all  along  declared,  "  that  if  the  govern- 
ment  sent  only  a  corporal's  guard,  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  go  along 
with  them."  The  vessels  sailed  on  the  20th  of  September, 
1798;  it  was  not  till  the  nth  of  October  that  they  arrived  off 
Lough  Swilly — simultaneously  with  an  English  squadron  that 
had  been  on  the  lookout  for  them.  The  English  ships  were 
about  equal  in  number  to  the  French,  but  were  of  a  larger  class, 
and  carried  a  much  heavier  armament.  The  French  Admiral 
directed  some  of  his  smaller  craft  to  endeavor  to  escape  by 
means  of  their  light  draught  of  water,  and  he  counselled  Tone 
to  transfer  himself  to  that  one  of  them  which  had  the  best 
chance  of  getting  away.  The  Frenchmen,  he  observed,  would 
be  made  prisoners  of  war,  but  for  the  Irish  rebel  a  worse  fate 
was  reserved  if  he  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies. 
But  to  this  suggestion  the  noble-hearted  Tone  declined  to  ac- 
cede. "Shall  it  be  said,"  he  replied,  ''that  I  fled  while  the 
French  were  fighting  the  battles  of  my  country?"  In  a  little 
time  the  Hochewas  surrounded  by  four  sail  of  the  line  and  one 
frigate,  who  poured  their  shot  into  her  upon  all  sides.  During 
six  hours  she  maintained  the  unequal  combat,  fighting  "till  her 
masts  and  rigging  were  cut  away,  her  scuppers  flowed  with 
blood,  her  wounded  filled  the  cockpit,  her  shattered  ribs  yawned 
at  each  new  stroke,  and  let  in  five  feet  of  water  in  the  hold, 
her  rudder  was  carried  off,  and  she  floated  a  dismantled  wreck 
on  the  water ;  her  sails  and  cordage  hung  in  shreds,  nor  could 
she  reply  with  a  single  gun  from  her  dismounted  batteries  to 
the  unabating  cannonade  of  the  enemy."  During  the  action 
Tone  commanded  one  of  the  batteries,  "and  fought  with  the 
utmost  desperation,  as  if  he  was  courting  death."  But,  as  often 
has  happened  in  similiar  cases,  death  seemed  to  shun  him,  and 
he  was  reserved  for  a  more  tragic  fate. 

The  French  officers  who  survived  the  action,  and  had  been 
made  prisoners  of  war,  were,  some  days  subsequently,  invited 
to  breakfast  with  the  Earl  of  Cavan,  who  commanded  in  the 
district  in  which  they  had  been  landed.  Tone,  who  up  to  that 
time,  had  escaped  recognition,  was  one  of  the  party,  and  sat 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK.  21 

undistinguished  among  them,  until  Sir  George  Hill,  who  had 
been  a  fellow-student  of  his  in  Trmity  College,  entered  the 
room,  and  accosted  him  by  his  name.  This  was  done,  not 
inadvertently,  but  with  the  intention  of  betraying  him. 
In  a  moment  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  party  of  military  and 
police,  who  were  in  waiting  for  him  in  the  next  room.  Seeing 
that  they  were  about  to  put  him  in  fetters,  he  complained  in- 
dignantly of  the  offering  of  such  an  insult  to  the  uniform 
which  he  wore,  and  the  rank — that  of  chef  de  brigade — which 
he  bore  in  the  French  army.  He  cast  off  his  regimentals, 
protested  that  they  should  not  be  so  sullied,  and  then,  offer- 
ing his  lips  to  the  irons,  exclaimed — ''  For  the  cause  which 
I  have  embraced,  I  feel  prouder  to  wear  these  chains,  than  if 
I  were  decorated  with  the  Star  and  Garter  of  England."  He 
was  hurried  off  to  Dublin,  and  though  the  ordinary  tribunals 
were  sitting  at  the  time,  and  the  military  tribunals  could  have 
no  claim  on  him,  as  he  had  never  belonged  to  the  English  army, 
he  was  put  on  his  trial  before  a  court-martial.  This  was  abso- 
lutely an  illegal  proceeding,  but  his  enemies  were  impatient  for 
his  blood,  and  would  not  brook  the  chances  and  the  delays  of 
the  ordinary  procedure  of  law.  On  the  loth  of  November, 
1798,  his  trial,  if  such  it  might  be  called,  took  place  in  one  of 
the  Dublin  barracks.  He  appeared  before  the  court,  "■  dressed," 
says  the  Dublin  Magazine  for  November,  1798,  "in  the  French 
uniform  ,  a  large  cocked  hat,  with  broad  gold  lace,  and  the  tri- 
colored  cockade ,  a  blue  uniform  coat,  with  gold-embroidcrcd 
collar  and  two  large  gold  epaulets  ;  blue  pantaloons,  with  gold- 
laced  garters  at  the  knees  ;  and  short  boots,  bound  at  the  tops 
with  gold  lace."  In  his  bearing  there  was  no  trace  of  excite- 
ment. *'  The  firmness  and  cool  serenity  of  his  whole  deport- 
ment," writes  his  son,  "  gave  to  the  awe-struck  assembly  the 
measure  of  his  soul."  The  proceedings  of  the  court  are 
detailed  in  the  following  report,  which  we  copy  from  the  "•  Life 
of  Tone,"  by  his  son,  published  at  Washington,  U  S.,  in 
1826:— 

The  members  of  the  court  having  been  sworn,  the  Judge  Advocate 


22  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

called  on  the  prisoner  to  plead  guilty  or  not  guilty  to  the  charge  of 
having  acted  traitorously  and  hostilely  against  the  king.  Tone  re- 
plied:— 

"  I  mean  not  to  give  the  court  any  useless  trouble,  and  wish  to 
spare  them  the  idle  task  of  examining  witnesses.  I  admit  all  the  facts 
alleged,  and  only  request  leave  to  read  an  address  which  I  have  pre- 
pared for  this  occasion." 

Colonel  Daly. — "I  must  warn  the. prisoner  that,  in  acknowledging 
those /^^/j-,  he  admits,  to  his  prejudice,  that  he  has  acted  traitorously 
against  his  Majesty.     Is  such  his  intention  ?" 

Tone — "Stripping  this  charge  of  the  technicality  of  its  terms,  it 
means,  I  presume,  by  the  word  traitorously,  that  I  have  been  found  in 
arms  against  the  soldiers  of  the  king  in  my  native  country.  I  admit 
this  accusation,  in  its  most  extended  sense,  and  request  again  to  explain 
to  the  court  the  reasons  and  motives  of  my  conduct." 

The  court  then  observed  they  would  hear  his  address,  provided  he 
kept  himself  within  the  bounds  of  moderation. 

Tone  rose,  and  began  in  these  words — "Mr.  President,  and  gentle- 
men of  the  court-martial, — I  mean  not  to  give  you  the  trouble  of 
bringing  judicial  proof  to  convict  me  legally  of  having  acted  in  hostil- 
ity to  the  government  of  his  Britannic  Majesty  in  Ireland.  I  admit  fhe 
fact.  From  my  earliest  youth  I  have  regarded  the  connection  between 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland  as  the  curse  of  the  Irish  nation,  and  felt  con- 
vinced that,  whilst  it  lasted,  this  country  could  never  be  free  nor 
happy.  My  mind  has  been  confirmed  in  this  opinion  by  the  experi- 
ence of  every  succeeding  year,  and  the  conclusions  which  I  have 
drawn  from  every  fact  before  my  eyes.  In  consequence,  I  was  deter- 
mined to  employ  all  the  powers  which  my  individual  efforts  could 
move,  in  order  to  seperate  the  two  countries.  That  Ireland  was  not 
able  of  herself  to  throw  off  the  yoke,  I  knew  ;  I  therefore  sought  for 
aid  wherever  it  was  to  be  found.  In  honorable  poverty  I  rejected 
offers  which,  to  a  man  in  my  circumstances,  might  be  considered 
highly  advantageous.  I  remained  faithful  to  what  I  thought  the  cause 
of  my  country  ;  and  sought  in  the  French  Republic  an  ally  to  rescue 
three  millions  of  mv  countrvmen  from — " 

The  President  here  interrupted  the  prisoner,  observing  that  this  lan- 
guage was  neither  relevant  to  the  charge,  nor  such  as  ought  to  be  de- 
livered in  a  public  court. 

A  member  said  it  seemed  calculated  only  to  inflame  the  minds  of  a 
certain  description  of  people  (the  United  Irishmen),  many  of  whom 
might  be  present,  and  that  the  court  could  not  suffer  it. 

The  Judge  Advocate  said — "  If  Mr.  Tone  meant  this  paper  to  be 
laid  before  his  Excellency  in^-way  of  extemialion,  it  must  have  quite  a 
contrary  effect,  if  the  foregoing  part  was  suffered  to  remain."  The 
President  wound  up  by  calling  on  the  prisoner  to  hesitate  before  pro- 
ceeding further  in  the  same  strain. 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 


23 


Tone  then  continued — "I  believe  there  is  nothing  in  what  remains 
io\  me  to  say,  which  can  give  offence  ;  I  mean  to  express  my  feelings 
and  gratitude  towards  the  Catholic  body,  in  whose  cause  I  was  en- 
gaged." 

President—"  That  seems  to  have  nothing  to  say  to  the  charge 
against  you,  to  which  you  are  only  to  speak.  If  you  have  anything  to 
offer  in  defence  or  extenuation  of  the  charge,  the  court  wi.l  hear  you, 
but  they  beg  you  will  confine  yourself  to  that  subject." 

Tone — "  I  shall  then  confine  myself  to  some  points  relative  to  my 
connections  with  the  French  arm^ .  Attached  to  no  party  in  the  :.'rench 
Republic — without  interest,  v/ithout  money,  without  intri^uc^^the 
openness  and  integrity  of  my  views  raised  me  to  a  hi^h  and  confiden- 
tial rank  in  its  armies.  I  obtained  the  confidence  of  the  Executive 
Directory,  the  approbation  of  iny  generals,  and  I  wil2  venture  to  add, 
the  esteem  and  affection  of  my  brave  comrades.  When  I  review 
these  circumstances,  I  feel  a  secret  and  internal  consolation,  which  no 
reverse  of  fortune,  no  sentence  in  the  power  of  this  court  to  i  iflict, 
can  deprive  me  of,  or  weaken  in  any  degree.  Under  the  flag  of  the 
French  Republic  I  originally  enr^aged  with  a  view  to  save  rnd  liberate 
my  own  country.  For  that  purpose  I  have  encountered  the  chances 
of  war  amongst  strangers  ;  for  that  purpose  I  repeatedly  braved  the 
terrors  of  the  ocean,  covered,  as  I  knew  it  to  be,  wi'h  the  triumphant 
fleets  of  that  power  which  it  was  my  glory  and  my  duty  to  oppose.  I 
have  sacrificed  all  my  views  in  life  ;  I  have  courted  poverty ;  I  have 
left  a  beloved  wife  unprotected,  and  children  whom  I  adored  father- 
less. After  such  a  sacrifice,  in  a  cause  which  I  have  always  considered 
— conscientiously  considered — as  the  cause  of  justice  and  freedom, 
it  is  no  great  effort,  at  this  day,  to  add  the  sacrifice  of  my  life.  But  I 
hear  it  is  said  that  this  unfortunate  country  has  been  a  prey  to  all  sorts 
of  horrors.  I  sincerely  lament  it.  I  beg,  however,  that  it  may  be  re  irdn- 
Dered  that  I  have  been  absc.it  four  years  from  Ireland.  To  me  muse 
sufferings  can  nevo-  be  attributed.  I  designed  by  fair  and  open  war 
to  procure  the  sep::.ration  of  two  countries.  For  open  war  I  was 
prepared,  but  instead  of  that  a  system  of  private  assassination  has  taken 
place.  I  repeat,  whilst  I  deplore  it,  that  it  is  not  chargeable  on  me. 
Atrocities,  it  seems,  have  been  committed  on  both  sides.  I  do  not 
less  deplore  them.  I  detest  them  from  my  heart ;  and  to  those  who 
know  my  character  and  sentiments,  I  nay  safely  appeal  for  the  truth 
of  this  assertion  ;  with  them  I  need  no  justification.  In  a  case  like 
this  success  is  everything.  Success,  in  the  eyes  of  i-ie  vulgar,  fixes  its 
merits.  Washington  succeeded,  and  Kosciusko  frilcd.  After  a  com- 
bat nobly  susta^led — a  coL.bat  which  would  hav:  excited  the  respect 
and  sympathy  of  a  ijencrous  enemy — my  fate  ha^:  been  to  7oecome  a 
prisoner,  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  those  './ho  gave  Che  orders.  I  was 
brought  here  in  irons  like  a  felon.  I  mention  this  for  the  sake  of  others; 
for  me,  I  am  indifferent  to  it.     I  am  aware  of  the  f^te  which  awaitg 


24  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

me,  and  scorn  equally  the  tone  of  complaint,  and  that  of  supplicati'^n. 
As  to  the  connection  between  this  country  and  Great  Britain,  I  repeat 
it — all  that  has  been  imputed  to  me  (words,  writings,  and  actionsj,  I 
here  deliberately  avow.  I  have  spoken  and  acted  with  reflection,  and 
on  principle,  and  am  ready  to  meet  the  consequences.  Whatever  be 
the  sentence  of  the  court,  I  am  prepared  for  it.  Its  members  will 
surely  discharge  their  duty — I  shall  take  care  not  to  be  wanting  in 
mine." 

The  court  having  asked  if  he  wished  to  make  any  further  observa- 
tion— 

Tone  said — "I  wish  to  offer  a  few  words  relative  to  one  single 
point — the  mode  of  punishment.  In  France  our  gmigrees,  who  stand 
nearly  in  the  same  situation  in  which  I  now  stand  before  you,  are  con- 
demned to  be  shot.  I  ask  that  the  court  adjudge  me  the  death  of  a 
soldier,  and  let  me  be  shot  by  a  platoon  of  grenadiers,  I  request  this 
indulgence  rather  in  consideration  of  the  uniform  I  wear — the  uni- 
form of  a  ch(f  de  bridage  in  the  French  army — than  from  any  personal 
regard  to  himself.  In  order  to  evince  my  claim  to  this  favor,  I  beg 
that  -the  court  may  take  the  trouble  to  peruse  my  commission  and  letters 
of  service  in  the  French  army.  It  will  appear  from  these  papers  that 
I  have  not  received  them  as  a  mask  to  cover  me,  but  that  I  have  been 
long  and  bona  fide  an  officer  in  the  French  service." 

Judge  Advocate. — "You  must  feel  that  the  papers  you  allude  to 
will  serve  as  undeniable  proof  against  you." 

Tone. — "  Oh,  I  know  they  will.  I  have  already  admitted  the  facts, 
and  I  now  admit  the  papers  as  full  proof  of  conviction." 

[The  papers  were  then  examined  ;  they  consisted  of  a  brevet  of  chef 
de  brigade  from  the  Directory,  signed  by  the  Minister  of  War,  of  a  let- 
ter of  service  granting  to  him  the  rank  of  Adjutant-General,  and  of  a 
passport.] 

General  Loftus. — "  In  these  papers  you  are  designated  as  serving  in 
the  army  of  England." 

Tone. — "I  did  serve  in  that  army,  when  it  was  commanded  by 
Bonaparte,  by  Dcssaix,  and  by  Kilmaine,  who  is,  as  I  am,  an  Irishman  ; 
but  I  have  also  served  elsewhere." 

The  Court  requested  if  he  had  anything  further  to  observe. 

H«-  said  that  nothing  more  occurred  to  him,  except  that  the  sooner 
his  Excellency's  approbation  of  the  sentence  was  obtained  the  better. 

This  is  Tone's  speech,  as  reported  in  the  public  prints  at 
that  time,  but  the  recently-published  **  Correspondence"  of 
Lord  Cornwallis — Lord-Lieutenant  in  these  days — supplies  a 
portion  of  the  address  which  was  never  before  published,  the 
Court  having  forbade  the  reading  of  it  at  the  trial.  The  pas- 
sage contains  a  noble  outburst  of  gratitude  towards  the  Catho- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  25 

lies  of  Ireland.  Tone  himself,  as  every  reader  is  aware,  was  a 
Protestant,  and  there  can  have  been  no  reason  for  its  suppres- 
sion except  the  consideration  that  it  was  calculated  to  still 
more  endear  the  prisoner  to  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen. 
We  now  reprint  it,  and  thus  place  it  for  the  first  time  before  the 
people  for  whom  it  was  written — 

"I  have  labored  to  create  a  people  in  Ireland  by  raising  three  millions 
of  my  countrymen  to  the  rank  of  citizens.  I  have  labored  to  abolish 
the  infernal  spirit  of  religious  persecution,  by  uniting  the  Catholics  and 
Dissenters.  To  the  former  I  owe  more  than  ever  can  be  repaid.  The 
services  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  render  them  they  rewarded  munificently  ; 
but  they  did  more  :  when  the  public  cry  was  raised  against  me — when 
the  friends  of  my  youth  swarmed  off  and  left  me  alone — the  Catholics 
did  not  desert  me  ;  they  had  the  virtue  even  to  sacrifice  their  own  in- 
terests to  a  rigid  principle  of  honor  ;  they  refused,  though  strongly 
urged,  to  disgrace  a  man  who,  whatever  his  conduct  towards  the 
government  might  have  been,  had  faithfully  and  conscientiously  dis- 
charged his  duty  towards  them  ;  and  in  so  doing,  though  it  was  in  my 
own  case,  I  will  say  they  showed  an  instance  of  public  virtue  of  which 
I  know  not  whether  there  exists  another  example." 

The  sad  sequel  of  those  proceedings  is  soon  told.  The  re- 
quest of  the  prisoner  to  receive  a  military  execution  was 
refused  by  the  Viceroy,  Lord  Cornwallis,  and  Tone  was  sen- 
tenced to  die  "the  death  of  a  traitor,"  within  forty-eight  hours 
from  the  time  of  his  conviction.  But  he— influenced,  it  must 
be  confessed,  by  a  totally  mistaken  feeling  of  pride,  and  yield- 
mg  to  a  weakness  which  every  Christian  heart  should  be  able  to 
conquer — resolved  that,  rather  than  allow  his  enemies  to  have 
the  satisfaction  of  dangling  his  body  from  a  gibbet,  he  would 
become  his  own  executioner.  On  the  night  of  the  nth  of 
November  he  contrived,  while  lying  unobserved  in  his  cell,  to 
open  a  vein  in  his  neck  with  a  penknife.  No  intelligence  of 
this  fact  had  reached  the  public  when,  on  the  morning  of  the 
I2th,the  intrepid  and  eloquent  advocate,  John  Philpot  Curran, 
made  a  motion  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  for  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpus,  to  withdraw  the  prisoner  from  the  custody  of 
the  military  authorities,  and  transfer  him  to  the  charge  of  the 
civil  power.     The  motion  was  granted  immediately,  Mr.  Curran 


26  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

pleading  that,  if  delay  were  made,  the  prisoner  might  be  exe* 
cuted  before  the  order  of  the  court  could  be  presented.  A 
messenger  was  at  once  despatched  from  the  court  to  the  barrack 
with  the  writ.  He  returned  to  say  that  the  officers  in  charge  of 
the  prisoner  would  obey  only  their  military  superiors.  The  Chief- 
Justice  issued  his  commands  peremptorily: — ''Mr.  Sheriff,  take 
the  body  of  Tone  into  custody—  take  the  Provost-Marshal  and 
Major  Sandys  into  custody, — and  show  the  order  of  the  court 
to  General  Craig."  The  Sheriff  sped  away,  and  soon  returned 
with  the  news  that  Tone  had  wounded  himself  on  the  previous 
evening,  and  could  not  be  removed.  The  Chief-Justice  then 
ordered  a  rule  suspending  the  execution.  For  the  space  of 
seven  days  afterwards  did  the  unfortunate  gentleman  endure 
the  agonies  of  approaching  death ;  on  the  19th  of  November, 
1798,  he  expired.  No  more  touching  reference  to  his  last  mo- 
ments could  be  given  than  the  following  pathetic  and  noble 
words,  traced  by  a  filial  hand,  and  published  in  the  memoir  from 
which  we  have  already  quoted  : — 

''Stretched  on  his  bloody  pallet  in  a  dungeon,  the  first  apostle 
of  Irish  union,  and  most  illustrious  martyr  of  Irish  independence, 
counted  each  lingering  hour.,  during  the  last  seven  days  and 
nights  of  his  slow  and  silent  agony.  No  one  was  allowed  to 
approach  him.  Far  from  his  adored  family,  and  from  all  those 
friends  whom  he  loved  so  dearly,  the  only  forms  which  flitted 
before  his  eyes  were  those  of  the  grim  jailor  and  his  rough  attend- 
ants— the  only  sounds  which  fell  on  his  dying  ear  the  heavy 
tread  of  the  sentry.  He  retained,  however,  the  calmness  of  his 
soul,  and  the  possession  of  his  faculties  to  the  last.  And  the 
consciousness  of  dying  for  his  country,  and  in  the  cause  of  justice 
and  liberty,  illumined  like  a  bright  halo  his  later  moments  and 
kept  up  his  fortitude  to  the  end.  There  is  no  situation  under 
which  those  feelings  will  not  support  the  soul  of  a  patriot." 

Tone  was  born  in  Stafford  Street,  Dublin,  on  the  20th  of  June, 
1764.  His  father  was  a  coachmaker,  who  carried  on  a  thriving 
business ;  his  grandfather  was  a  comfortable  farmer,  who  held 
land  near  Naas,  county  Kildare.    In  February,  1 78 1 ,  Tone  entered 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


V 


Trinity  College,  Dublin;  in  January,  1787,  he  entered  his  name 
as  a  law  student  on  the  books  of  the  Middle  Temple,  London, 
and  in  1789  he  was  called  to  the  bar.  His  mortal  remains  repose 
in  Bodenstown  churchyard,  county  Kildare,  whither  parties  of 
patriotic  young  men  from  the  metropolis  and  the  surrounding 
districts  often  proceed  to  lay  a  green  wreath  on  his  grave.  His 
spirit  lives,  and  will  live  forever,  in  the  hearts  of  his  country- 
men. 


WILLIAM  ORR. 

WELVE  months  before  Wolfe  Tone  expired  in  his 
prison  cell,  one  of  the  bravest  of  his  associates  paid  with 
his  life  the  penalty  of  his  attachment  to  the  cause  of  Irish 
independence.  In  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  the 
United  Irishmen  found  their  first  martyr  ;  and  time  has 
left  no  darker  blot  on  the  administration  of  English  rule 
than  the  execution  of  the  high-spirited  Irishman  who  swung 
from  the  gallows  of  Carrickfergus  on  the  14th  of  October,  1797. 
William  Orr  was  the  son  of  a  farmer  and  bleach-green  pro- 
prietor, of  Ferranshane,  in  the  county  of  Antrim.  The  family 
were  in  comfortable  circumstances,  and  young  Orr  received  a 
good  education,  which  he  afterwards  turned  to  account  in  the 
service  of  his  country.  We  know  little  of  his  early  history,  but 
we  find  him,  on  growing  up  to  manhood,  an  active  member  of 
the  society  of  United  Irishmen,  and  remarkable  for  his  popu- 
larity amongst  his  countrymen  in  the  north.  His  appearance, 
not  less  than  his  principles  and  declarations,  was  calculated  to 
captivate  the  peasantry  amongst  whom  he  lived  ;  he  stood  six 
feet  two  inches  in  height,  was  a  perfect  model  of  symmetry, 
strength,  and  gracefulness,  and  the  expression  of  his  countenance 
was  open,  frank,  and  manly.  He  was  always  neatly  and  respect- 
ably dressed — a  prominent  feature  in  his  attire  being  a  green 
necktie,  which  he  wore  even  in  his  last  confinement. 


28  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

One  of  the  first  blows  aimed  by  the  government  against  the 
United  Irishmen  was  the  passing  of  the  Act  of  Parliament  (36 
George  III.),  which  constituted  the  administration  of  their  oath 
a  capital  felony.  This  piece  of  legislation,  repugnant  in  itself 
to  the  dictates  of  reason  and  justice,  was  intended  as  no  idle 
threat  ;  a  victim  was  looked  for  to  suffer  under  its  provisions, 
and  William  Orr,  the  champion  of  the  northern  Presbyterian 
patriots,  was  doomed  to  serve  the  emergency. 

He  was  arraigned,  tried,  and  convicted  at  Carrickfergus,  on  a 
charge  of  having  administered  the  United  Irishmen's  oath  to  a 
soldier  named  Wheatly.  The  whole  history  of  the  operations 
of  the  British  law  courts  in  Ireland  contains  nothing  more  in- 
famous than  the  record  of  that  trial.  We  now  know,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  that  the  man  who  tendered  the  oath  to  Wheatly  was 
William  M'Keever,  a  well-known  member  of  the  society,  who 
subsequently  made  his  escape  to  America.  But  this  was  not  a 
case,  such  as  sometimes  happens,  of  circumstantial  evidence 
pointing  to  a  wrong  conclusion.  The  only  evidence  against 
Oi-r  was  the  unsupported  testimony  of  the  soldier  Wheatly ; 
and  after  hearing  Curran's  defence  of  the  prisoner,  there  could 
be  no  possible  doubt  of  his  innocence.  But  Orr  was  a  doomed 
man — the  government  had  decreed  his  death  beforehand  ;  and 
in  this  case,  as  in  every  other,  the  bloodthirsty  agents  of  the 
crown  did  not  look  in  vain  for  Irishmen  to  co-operate  with  them 
in  their  infamy. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  jury  retired  to  consider  their 
verdict.  The  scene  that  followed  in  the  jury-room  is  described 
in  the  sworn  affidavits  of  some  of  its  participators.  The  jury 
were  supplied  with  supper  by  the  crown  officials  ;  a  liberal  sup. 
ply  of  intoxicating  beverages,  wines,  brandy,  etc.,  being  include 
ded  in  the  refreshments.  In  their  sober  state,  several  of  the 
jurymen — amongst  them  Alexander  Thompson,  of  Cushendall, 
the  foreman — had  refused  to  agree  to  a  verdict  of  guilty.  It 
was  otherwise,  however,  when  the  decanters  had  been  emptied^ 
and  when  threats  of  violence  were  added  to  the  bewildering 
effects  of  the  potations  in  which  they  indulged.     Thompson 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


29 


was  threatened  by  his  more  unscrupulous  companions  with 
being  wrecked,  beaten,  and  "  not  left  with  sixpence  in  the  world," 
and  similar  means  were  used  against  the  few  who  refused  with 
him  to  return  a  verdict  of  guilty.  At  six  in  the  morning,  the 
jury,  not  a  man  of  whom  by  this  time  was  sober,  returned  into 
court  with  a  verdict  of  guilty,  recommending  the  prisoner  at  the 
same  time  in  the  strongest  manner  to  mercy.  Next  Orr  was 
placed  at  the  bar,  and  sentenced  to  death  by  Lord  Yelverton, 
who,  it  is  recorded,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  address  burst  into 
tears.  A  motion  was  made  by  Curran  in  arrest  of  judgment, 
chiefly  on  the  grounds  of  the  drunkenness  of  the  jury  but  the 
judges  refused  to  entertain  the  objection.  The  following  is  the 
speech  delivered  by  William  Orr,  after  the  verdict  of  the  jury 
had  been  announced:  — 

"  My  friends  and  fellow-countrymen, — In  the  thirty-first  year  of 
my  life,  I  have  been  sentenced  to  die  upon  the  gallows,  and  this  sen- 
tence has  been  in  pursuance  of  a  verdict  of  twelve  men,  who  should 
have  been  indifferently  and  impartially  chosen.  How  far  they  have 
been  so,  I  leave  to  that  country  from  which  they  have  been  chosen 
to  determine;  and  how  far  they  have  discharged  their  duty,  I  leave 
to  their  God,  and  to  themselves.  They  have,  in  pronouncing  their 
verdict,  thought  proper  to  recommend  me  as  an  object  of  humane 
mercy.  In  return,  I  pray  to  God,  if  they  have  erred,  to  have  mercy 
upon  them.  The  judge  who  condemned  me  humanely  shed  tears  in 
uttering  my  sentence.  But  whether  he  did  wisely  in  so  highly  com- 
mending the  wretched  informer,  who  swore  away  my  life,  I  leave  to 
his  own  cool  reflection,  solemnly  assuring  him  and  all  the  world,  with 
my  dying  breath,  that  that  informer  was  forsworn. 

"  The  law  under  which  I  suffer  is  surely  a  severe  one — may  the 
makers  and  promoters  of  it  be  justified  in  the  integrity  of  their  mo- 
tives, and  the  purity  of  their  own  lives!  By  that  law  I  am  stamped 
a  felon,  but  my  heart  disdains  the  imputation. 

"  My  comfortable  lot,  and  industrious  course  of  life,  best  refute 
the  charge  of  being- an  adventurer  for  plunder;  but  if  to  have  loved 
my  country — to  have  known  its  wrongs — to  have  felt  the  injuries  of 
the  persecuted  Catholics,  and  to  have  united  with  them  and  all 
other  religious  persuasions  in  the  most  orderly  and  sanguinary 
means  of  procuring  redress — if  those  be  felonies,  I  am  a  felon,  but 
not  otherwise.  Had  my  counsel  (for  whose  honorable  exertions 
I  am  indebted)  prevailed  in  their  motions  to  have  me  tried  for 
high  treason,  rather  than  under  the  insurrection  law,  I  should  have 


30 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK. 


been  entitled  to  a  full  defence,  and  my  actions  have  been  better 
vindicated  ;  but  that  was  refused,  and  ^  must  now  submit  to  what 
has  passed. 

"  To  the  generous  protection  of  my  country  I  leave  a  beloved 
wife,  who  has  been  constant  and  true  to  me,  and  whose  grief  for  my 
fate  has  already  nearly  occasioned  her  death.  I  have  five  living  chil- 
dren, who  have  been  my  delight.  May  they  love  their  country  as  I 
have   done,  and  die  for  it  if  needful. 

"  Lastly,  a  false  and  ungenerous  publication  having  appeared  in  a 
newspaper,  stating  certain  alleged  confessions  of  guilt  on  my  part,  and 
thus  striking  at  my  reputation,  which  is  dearer  to  me  than  life,  I  take 
this  solemn  method  of  contradicting  the  calumny.  I  was  applied  to 
by  the  high-sheriff,  and  the  Rev.  William  Bristow,  sovereign  of  Bel- 
fast, to  make  a  confession  of  guilt,  who  used  entreaties  to  that  effect ; 
this  I  peremptorily  refused.  If  I  thought  myself  guilty,  I  v/ould 
freely  confess  it,  but,  on  the  contrary,  I  glory  in  my  innocence. 

"  I  trust  that  all  my  virtuous  countrymen  will  bear  me  in  their  kind 
remembrance,  and  continue  true  and  faithful  to  each  other,  as  I  have 
been  to  all  of  them.  With  this  last  wish  of  my  heart — nothing  doubt- 
ing of  the  success  of  that  cause  for  which  I  suffer,  and  hoping  for 
God's  merciful  forgiveness  of  such  offences  as  my  frail  nature  may 
have  at  any  time  betrayed  me  into — I  die  in  peace  and  charity  with 
all  mankind." 

Hardly  had  sentence  of  death  been  pa.ssed  on  William  Orr, 
when  compunction  seemed  to  seize  on  those  who  had  aided  in 
securing  that  result.  The  witness  Wheatly,  who  subsequently 
became  insane,  and  is  believed  to  have  died  by  his  own  hand, 
made  an  afifidavit  before  a  magistrate  acknowledging  that  he 
had  sworn  falsely  against  Orr.  Two  of  the  jury  made  deposi- 
tions, setting  forth  that  they  had  been  induced  to  join  in  the 
verdict  of  guilty  while  under  the  influence  of  drink;  two  others 
swore  that  they  had  been  terrified  into  the  same  course  by 
threats  of  violence. 

These  depositions  were  laid  before  the  Viceroy,  but  Lord 
Camden,  the  then  Lord-Lieutenant,  was  deaf  to  all  appeals. 
Well  might  Orr  exclaim  within  his  dungeon  that  the  govern- 
ment "  had  laid  down  a  system  having  for  its  object  murder 
and  devastation."  The  prey  was  in  the  toils  of  the  hunters,  on 
whom  all  appeals  of  justice  and  humanity  were  wasted. 

Orr  was  hung,  as  we  have  said,  in  the  town  of  Carrickfergus, 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


31 


on  the  14th  of  October,  1797.  It  is  related  that  the  inhabitants 
of  the  town,  to  express  their  sympathy  with  the  patriot  about 
being  murdered  by  law,  and  to  mark  their  abhorence  of  the 
conduct  of  the  government  towards  him,  quitted  the  town  en 
masse  on  the  day  of  his  execution. 

His  fate  excited  the  deepest  indignation  throughout  the 
country  ;  it  was  commented  on  in  words  of  fire  by  the  national 
writers  of  that  period,  and  through  many  an  after  year  the 
watchword  and  rallying  cry  of  the  United  Irishmen  was — 

"REMEMBER  ORR." 


HENRY  AND  JOHN  SHEARES. 

MONG  the  many  distinguished  Irishmen  wlio  acted 
prominent  parts  in  the  stormy  events  of  1798,  and 
whose  names  come  down  to  us  hallowed  by  the  suf- 
ferings and  sacrifices  inseparable  in  those  dark  days 
from  the  lot  of  an  Irish  patriot,  there  are  few  whose 
fate  excited  more  sympathy,  more  loved  in  life,  more 
Honored  in  death,  than  the  brothers  John  and  Henry  Sheares. 
Even  in  the  days  of  Emmet  and  Wolfe  Tone,  of  Russell  and 
Fitzgerald,  when  men  of  education,  talent,  and  social  standing 
were  not  few  in  the  national  ranks,  the  Sheareses  were  hailed 
as  valuable  accessions  to  the  cause,  and  were  recognized  by  the 
United  Irishmen  as  heaven-destined  leaders  for  the  people.  It 
is  a  touching  story,  the  history  of  their  patrotic  exertions,  their 
betrayal,  trial,  and  executiofi ;  but  it  is  by  studying  such  scenes 
in  our  history  that  Irishmen  can  learn  to  estimate  the  sacrifices 
which  were  made  in  bygone  days  for  Ireland,  and  attach  a 
proper  value  to  the  mem^ory  of  the  patriots  who  made  them. 

Henry  and  John  Sheares  were  sons  of  John  Sheares,  a  banker 
in  Cork,  who  sat  in  the  Irish  ParHament  for  the  borough  of 


32 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCIC. 


Clonakilty.     The  father  appears  to  have  been  a  kindly-disposed, 
liberal-minded  man,  and  numerous  stories  are  told  of  his  unos- 
tentatious charity  and  benevolence.     Henry,  the  elder  of  the 
two  sons,  was  born  in  1753,  and  was  educated  in  Trinity  College, 
Dublin.     After  leaving  college  he  purchased  a  commission  in 
the  51st  Regiment  of  foot,  but  the  duties  of  a  military  officer 
were  ill  suited  to  his  temperament    and  disposition,  and  the 
young  soldier  soon  resigned  his  commission,  to  pursue  the  more 
congenial  occupation  of  law  student.     He  was  called  to  the  bar 
in  1790;  his  brother  John,  his  junior  by  three  years,  who  had 
adopted  the  same  profession,  obtained  the  rank  of  barrister-at- 
law  two    years  previously.     The    brothers  differed    from  each 
other  widely  in  character  and  disposition.     Henry  was  gentle 
in  manners,  modest  and  unassuming,  but  firmly  attached  to  his 
principles,  and  unswerving  in  his  fidelity  to  the  cause  which  he 
adopted;  John  was  bold,  impetuous,  and  energetic,  ready  to 
plan  and  to    dare,  fertile  of   resources,  quick    of   resolve,  and 
prompt  of  execution.     To  John  the  elder  brother  looked  for 
guidance  and  example,  and  his  gentle  nature  was  ever  ruled  by 
the  more  fiery  and  impulsive  spirit  of  his  younger  brother.     On 
the  death  of  his  father,  Henry  Sheares  came  in  for  property  to 
the  value  of  ;£'i,20o  per  annum,  which  his  rather  improvident 
habits  soon  diminished  by  one-half.    Both  brothers,  however,  ob- 
tained large  practice  at  their  profession,  and  continued  in  afiflu- 
tnt  circumstances  up  to  the  day  of  their  arrest. 

In  1792  the  two  brothers  visited  Paris,  and  this  excursion 
seems  to  have  formed  the  turning  point  of  their  lives  and  for- 
tunes. The  French  Revolution  was  in  full  swing,  and  in  the 
society  of  Roland,  Brissot,  and  other  Republican  leaders,  the 
young  Irishmen  imbibed  the  love  of  freedom,  and  impa- 
tience of  tyranny  and  oppression,  which  they  clung  to  so  faith- 
fully, and  which  distinguished  them  so  remarkably  during  the 
remainder  of  their  lives.  On  returning  to  Ireland,  in  January, 
1793,  the  brothers  joined  the  ranks  of  the  United  Irishmen. 
John  at  once  became  a  promineit  member  of  the  society,  and 
his  signature  appears  to  several  of  the  spirited  and  eloquent 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


33 


addresses  by  which  the  Dublin  branches  sought  from  time  to 
time  to  arouse  the  ardor  and  stimulate  the  exertions  of  their 
compatriots.  The  society  of  United  Irishmen  looked  for  nothing 
more  at  this  period  than  a  thorough  measure  of  parliamen- 
tary reform,  household  suffrage  being  the  leading  feature  in 
their  programme  ;  but  when  the  tyranny  of  the  government 
drove  the  leaguers  into  more  violent  and  dangerous  courses, 
when  republican  government  and  separation  from  England 
were  inscribed  on  the  banners  of  the  society  instead  of  electoral 
reform,  and  when  the  selfish  and  wavering  had  shrunk  aside, 
the  Sheareses  still  remained  true  to  the  United  Irishmen,  and 
seemed  to  grow  more  zealous  and  energetic  in  the  cause  of  their 
country  according  as  the  mists  of  perplexity  and  danger 
gathered  around  it. 

To  follow  out  the  history  of  the  Sheareses*  connection  with 
the  United  Irishmen,  would  be  foreign  to  our  intention  and 
to  the  scope  of  this  work.  The  limits  of  our  space  oblige  us 
to  pass  over  the  ground  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  we  shall  dismiss 
the  period  of  the  Sheareses'  lives  comprised  in  the  years  be- 
tween 1793  and  1798,  by  saying  that  during  that  period,  while 
practising  their  profession  with  success,  they  devoted  them- 
selves with  all  the  earnestness  of  their  nature  to  the  further- 
ance of  the  objects  of  the  United  Irishmen.  In  March,  1798; 
the  affairs  of  fhe  organization  became  critical  ;  the  arrest  of  the 
Directory,  at  Oliver  Bond's,  deprived  the  party  of  its  best  ani 
most  trusted  leaders,  besides  placing  in  the  hands  of  the  gov- 
ernment a  mass  of  information  relative  to  the  plans  and  resources 
of  the  conspirators.  To  fill  the  gap  thus  caused,  John 
Sheares  was  soon  appointed  a  member  of  the  Directory,  and  he 
threw  himself  into  the  work  with  all  the  ardor  and  energy  of 
his  nature.  The  fortunes  of  the  society  had  assumed  a  desper- 
ate phase  when  John  Sheares  became  its  ruling  spirit.  Tone 
was  in  France,  O'Connor  was  in  England,  Russell,  Emmet,  and 
Fitzgerald  were  in  prison.  But  Sheares  was  not  disheartened ; 
he  directed  all  his  efforts  towards  bringing  about  the  insurrec- 
tion for  which  his  countrymen  had  so  long  been  preparing,  and 


34  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

the  23d  of  May,  1798,  was  fixed  on  by  him  for  the  outbreak.  He 
was  after  visiting  Wexford  and  Kildare,  and  making  arrange- 
ments in  those  counties  for  the  rising,  and  was  on  the  verge  of 
starting  for  Cork,  on  a  similar  mission,  when  the  hand  of 
treachery  cut  short  his  career,  and  the  gates  of  Kilmainham 
prison  opened  to  receive  him. 

Amongst  all  the  human  monsters  who  filled  the  ranks  of  the 
government  informers  in  that  dark  and  troubled  period, 
not  one  appears  to  merit  a  deeper  measure  of  infamy  than 
Captain  Warnesford  Armstrong,  the  entrapper  and  betrayer  of 
the  Sheareses.  Having  obtained  an  introduction  to  John,  he 
represented  himself  as  a  zealous  and  hard-working  member  of 
the  organization,  and  soon  wormed  himself  completely  into 
the  confidence  of  his  victims.  He  paid  daily  visits  to  the  house 
of  the  Sheareses  in  Baggot  Street,  chatted  with  their  families, 
and  fondled  the  children  of  Henry  Sheares  upon  his  knee.  We 
have  it  on  his  own  testimony,  that  each  interview  with  the  men 
whose  confidence  he  was  sharing  was  followed  by  a  visit  to  the 
Castle.  We  need  not  go  through  the  sickening  details  of  this 
vile  story  of  treachery  and  fraud.  On  the  21st  of  May  the 
Sheareses  were  arrested  and  lodged  in  prison,  and  on  the  12th 
of  the  following  month,  Armstrong  appeared  against  them 
in  the  witness-box.  The  trial  was  continued  through  the 
night — Toler,  of  infamous  memory,  who  had  been  created 
Attorney-General  expressly  for  the  occasion,  refusing  Curran's 
request  for  an  adjournment  ;  and  it  was  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  the  13th  when  the  jury,  who  had  been  but  seventeen 
minutes  absent,  returned  into  court  with  a  verdict  of  guilty 
against  both  prisoners. 

After  a  few  hours'  adjournment  the  court  re-assembled  to  pass 
sentence.  It  was  then  that  John  Sheares,  speaking  in  a  firm 
tone,  addressed  the  court  as  follows : — 

*  My  Lords, — I  wish  to  offer  a  few  words  before  sentence  is  pro. 
nounced,  because  there  is  a  weight  pressing  on  my  heart  much  greater 
than  that  of  the  sentence  which  is  to  come  from  the  court.  There 
has  been,  my  lords,  a  weight  pressing  on  my  mind  from  the  first  mo- 


SP^.ECHES  FROM   THE  DOClC, 


35 


ment  I  heard  the  \'^<iictment  read  upon  which  I  was  tried  ;  but  that 
weight  has  been  more  peculiarly  pressing  upon  my  heart  when  I  found 
the  accusation  in  the  indictment  enforced  and  supported  upon  the  trial. 
That  weight  would  be  left  insupportable  if  it  were  not  for  this  oppor- 
tunity of  discharging  it;  I  shall  feel  it  to  be  insupportable  since  a  ver- 
dict of  my  country  has  stamped  that  evidence  as  well  founded.  Do 
not  think,  my  lords,  that  I  am  about  to  make  a  declaration  against  the 
verdict  of  the  jury,  or  the  persons  concerned  with  the  trial  ;  I  am  only 
about  to  call  to  your  recollection  a  part  of  the  charge  at  which  my 
soul  shudders,  and  if  I  had  an  opportunity  of  renouncing  it  before 
your  lordships  and  this  auditory,  no  courage  would  be  sufficient  to 
support  me.  The  accusation  of  which  I  speak,  while  1  linger  here  yet  a 
minute,  is  that  of  holding  out  to  the  people  of  Ireland  a  direction  to 
give  no  quarter  to  the  troops  fighting  for  its  defence.  My  lords,  let 
me  say  thus,  that  if  there  be  any  acquaintances  in  this  crowded  court 
— I  do  not  say  my  intimate  friends,  but  acquaintances — who  do  not 
know  what  I  say  is  truth,  I  shall  be  reputed  the  wretch  which  I  am 
not ;  I  say,  if  any  acquaintance  of  mine  can  believe  that  /  could 
utter  a  recommendation  of  giving  no  quarter  to  a  yielding  and  unof- 
fending foe,  it  is  not  the  death  which  I  am  about  to  suffer  that  I  de* 
serve — no  punishment  could  be  adequate  to  such  a  crime.  My  lords, 
I  can  not  only  acquit  my  soul  of  such  an  intention,  but  I  declare,  in 
the  presence  of  that  God  before  whom  I  must  shortly  appear,  that  the 
favorite  doctrine  of  rny  heart  was  that  no  huvia7i  being  should  suffer 
deaths  but  when  absolute  necessity  required  it.  My  lords,  I  feel  a  conso- 
lation in  making  this  declaration,  which  nothmg  else  could  afford  me, 
because  it  is  not  only  a  justification  of  myself,  but  where  I  am  sealing 
my  life  with  that  breath  which  cannot  be  suspected  of  falsehood,  what 
I  say  may  make  some  impression  upon  the  minds  of  men  not  holding 
the  same  doctrine.  I  declare  to  God,  I  know  of  no  crime  but  assassina- 
tion which  can  echpse  or  equal  that  of  which  1  am  accused.  I  discern 
no  shade  of  guilt  between  that  and  taking  away  the  life  of  a  foe,  by 
putting  a  bayonet  to  his  heart  when  he  is  yielding  and  surrendering.  I 
do  request  the  bench  to  believe  that  of  me — I  do  request  my  country 
to  beheve  that  of  me — I  am  sure  God  will  think  that  of  me.  Now, 
my  lords,  I  have  no  favor  to  ask  of  the  court  ;  my  country  has  decided 
I  am  guilty,  and  the  law  says  I  shall  suffer— it  sees  that  I  am  ready  to 
suffer.  But,  my  lords,  I  have  a  favor  to  request  of  the  court  that  does 
not  relate  to  myself.  My  lords,  I  have  a  brother  whom  I  have  even 
loved  dearer  than  myself,  but  it  is  not  from  any  affection  for  him  alone 
that  I  am  induced  to  make  the  request.  He  is  a  man,  and  therefore  I 
would  hope  prepared  to  die,  if  he  stood  as  I  do — though  I  do  not 
stand  unconnected  ;  but  he  stands  more  dearly  connected.  In  short, 
my  lords,  to  spare  your  feelings,  and  I  my  own,  I  do  not  pray  that  / 
should  not  die,  but  that  the  husband,  the  father,  the  son — all  comprised 
in  one  person — holding  those  relations  dearer  in  life  to  him  than  any 


36 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


other  man  I  know — for  such  a  man  I  do  not  pray  a  pnrdon,  for  that 
is  not  in  the  power  of  the  court,  but  I  pray  a  respite  for  such  time  as 
the  court  in  its  humanity  and  discretion  shall  think  proper.  You  have 
heard,  my  lords,  that  his  private  affairs  require  arrangement.  When 
I  address  myself  to  your  lordships,  it  is  with  the  knowledge  you  will 
have  of  all  the  sons  of  our  aged  mother  being  gone.  Two  have  per- 
ished in  the  service  of  the  king — one  very  recently.  I  only  recjuire 
that,  disposing  of  me  with  what  swiftness  either  the  public  minds  or 
justice  requires,  a  respite  may  be  given  to  my  brother,  that  the  family 
may  acquire  strength  to  bear  it  all.  That  is  all  I  wish  ;  I  shall  re- 
member it  to  my  last  breath,  and  I  shall  offer  up  my  prayers  for  you 
to  that  Being  who  has  endued  us  all  with  the  sensibility  to  feel.  That 
is  all  I  ask.     I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

It  was  four  o'clock,  p.m.,  when  the  judge  proceeded  to  pass 
sentence,  and  the  following  morning  was  appointed  for  the 
double  execution.  At  midday  on  Saturday,  July  14th,  the 
hapless  men  were  removed  to  the  room  adjoining  the  place  of 
execution,  where  they  exchanged  a  last  embrace.  They  were 
then  pinioned,  the  black  caps  put  over  their  brows,  and  holding 
each  other  by  the  hand,  they  tottered  out  on  the  platform. 
The  elder  brother  was  somewhat  moved  by  the  terrors  of  his 
situation,  but  the  younger  bore  his  fate  with  unflinching  firm 
ness.  They  were  launched  together  into  eternity — the  same 
moment  saw  them  dangling  lifeless  corpses  before  the  prison 
walls.  They  had  lived  in  affectionate  unity,  inspired  by  the 
same  motives,  laboring  for  the  same  cause,  and  death  did  not' 
dissolve  the  tie.    ''  They  died  hand  in  hand,  like  true  brothers." 

When  the  hangman's  hideous  office  was  completed,  the 
bodies  were  taken  down,  and  the  executioner,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  barbarous  custom  of  the  time,  proceeded  to 
sever  the  heads  from  the  bodies.  It  is  said,  however,  that  only 
on  the  body  of  Henry  Sheares  was  that  horrible  act  performed 
While  the  arrangements  for  the  execution  were  in  progress.  Sir 
Jonah  Barrington  had  been  making  intercession  with  Lord 
Clare  on  their  behalf,  and  beseeching  at  least  a  respite.  His 
lordship  declared  that  the  life  of  John  Sheares  could  not  be 
spared,  but  said  that  Henry  might  possibly  have  something  to 
say  which  would  induce  the  government  to  commute  his  sen* 


ROBERT    EMMET. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


37 


tence  ;  he  furnished  Sir  Jonah  with  an  order  to  delay  the  exe- 
cution  one  hour,  and  told  him  to  communicate  with  Henry 
Sheares  on  the  subject.  ''  I  hastened,"  writes  Sir  Jonah,  "  to 
Newgate,  and  arrived  at  the  very  moment  that  the  executioner 
was  holding  up  the  head  of  my  old  college  friend,  and  saying, 
*  Here  is  the  head  of  a  traitor.'  "  The  fact  of  this  order  having 
been  issued  by  the  government,  may  have  so  far  interrupted  the 
bloody  work  on  the  scaffold  as  to  save  the  remains  of  the 
younger  Sheares  from  mutilation.  The  bodies  of  the  patriots 
were  interred  on  the  night  of  the  execution  in  the  vaults  of  St. 
Michan's  church,  where,  enclosed  in  oaken  coffins,  marked  in 
the  usual  manner  with  the  names  and  ages  of  the  deceased, 
they  still  repose.  Many  a  pious  visit  has  since  been  paid  to 
those  dim  chambers — many  a  heart,  filled  with  love  and  pity, 
has  throbbed  above  those  coffin  lids — many  a  tear  has  dropped 
upon  them.  But  it  is  not  a  feeling  of  grief  alone  that  is  in. 
spired  by  the  memory  of  those  martyrs  to  freedom;  hope, 
courage,  constancy,  are  the  lessons  taught  by  their  lives,  and 
the  patriotic  spirit  that  ruled  their  career  is  still  awake  and 
active  in  Ireland. 


ROBERT  EMMET. 

,N  all  Irish  history  there  is  no  name  which  touches  the 
Irish  heart  like  that  of  Robert  Emmet.  We  read,  in 
that  eventful  record,  of  men  who  laid  down  their  lives 
for  Ireland  amid  the  roar  and  crash  of  battle,  of  others 
who  perished  by  the  headsman's  axe  or  the  halter  of 
the  hangman,  of  others  whose  eyes  were  closed  forever 
in  the  gloom  of  English  dungeons,  and  of  many  whose  hearts 
broke  amid  the  sorrows  of  involuntary  exile  ;  of  men,  too,  who  in 
the  great  warfare  of  mind  rendered  to  the  Irish  cause  services 
no  less  memorable  and  glorious.  They  are  neither  forgotten 
nor  unhonored.     The  warrior  figure  of  Hugh  O'Neil  is  a  fami- 


jg  SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK, 

liar  vision  to  Irishmen  ;  Sarsfield  expiring  on  the  foreign  battle- 
field with  that  infinitely  pathetic  and  noble  utterance  on  his  lips — • 
"Would  that  this  were  for  Ireland," — is  a  cherished  remem- 
brance, and  that  last  cry  of  a  patriotic  spirit  dwells    forever 
about  our  hearts ;  Grattan  battling  against  a  corrupt  and  venal 
faction,  first  to  win,  and  then  to  defend  the  independence  of 
his  country,  astonishing  friends  and  foes  alike  by  the  dazzling 
splendor    of   his   eloquence ;    and    O'Connell    on  the   hill-sides 
pleading  for  the  restoration  of  Ireland's  rights,  and  rousing  his 
countrymen  to  a  struggle  for  them,  are  pictures  of  which  we  are 
proud — memories  that  will  live  in  song  and  story  while  the  Irish 
race  has  a  distinct  existence  in  the  world      But  in  the  character 
of  Robert  Emmet  there  was  such  a  rare  combination  of  admir- 
able qualities,  and  in  his  history  there  are    so  many  of  the  ele- 
ments of   romance,  that  the  man    stands    before   our    mental 
vision,  as  a  peculiarly  noble  and   loveable  being,  with  claims 
upon  our   sympathies  that  are    absolutely  without  a  parallel. 
He  had  youth,  talent,  social  position,  a  fair  share  of  fortune, 
and  bright  prospects  for  the  future  on  his  side,  when  he  em- 
barked in  the  service  of  a  cause  that  had  but  recently  been  sunk 
in  defeat  and  ruin.     Courage,  genius,  enthusiasm,  were  his;  high 
hopes  and  strong  affections,  all  based  upon  and  sweetened  by 
a  nature  utterly  free  from  guile.     He  was  an  orator  and  a  poet; 
in  the  one  art  he  had  already  achieved  distinction,  in  the  other 
he  was  certain  to  take  a  high  place,  if  he  should  make  that  an 
object  of  his  ambition.     He  was  a  true  patriot,  true  soldier,  and 
true  lover.     If  the  story  of   his   political   life  is  full   of  melan- 
choly interest,  and  calculated  to  awaken  profound  emotions  of 
reverence  for  his  memory,  the  story  of  his  affection  is  not  less 
touching.     Truly,  "  there's  not  a  line  but  hath  been  wept  upon." 
So  it  is,  that  of  all  the  heroic  men  who  risked  and  lost  every- 
thing for  Ireland,  none  is  so  frequently  remembered,  none  is 
thought  of  so  tenderly,  as  Robert  Emmet      Poetry  has  cast  a 
halo  of  light  upon  the  name  of  the  youthful  martyr,  and  some 
of  the  sweetest  strains  of  Irish  music  are  consecrated  to  his 
memory. 


speeche:^  from  the  dock. 


39 


Robert  Emmet  was  born  on  the  4th  of  March  1778  He  was 
the  third  son  of  Doctot  Robert  Emmet,  a  well-known  and  highly 
respectable  physician  of  Dublin.  Thomas  Addis  Emmet,  already 
mentioned  in  these  pages,  the  associate  of  Tone,  the  Sheareses, 
and  other  members  of  the  United  Irish  organization,  was  an 
elder  brother  of  Robert,  and  his  senior  by  some  sixteen  years. 
Just  about  the  period  when  the  United  Irishmen  were  forming 
themselves  into  a  secret  revolutionary  society,  young  Emmet 
was  sent  to  receive  his  education  in  Trinity  College.  There 
the  bent  of  the  lad's  political  opinions  was  soon  detected  ;  but 
among  his  fellow-students  he  found  many,  and  amongst  them 
older  heads  than  his  own,  who  not  only  shared  his  views,  but 
went  beyond  them  in  the  direction  of  liberal  and  democratic 
principles.  In  the  Historical  Society — composed  of  the  ahimm 
of  the  college,  and  on  whose  books  at  this  time  were  many  names 
that  subsequently  became  famous — those  kindred  spirits  made 
for  themselves  many  opportunities  of  giving  expression  to  their 
sentiments,  and  showing  that  their  hearts  beat  in  unison  with 
the  great  movement  for  human  freedom  which  was  then  agi- 
tating the  world.  To  their  debates  Emmet  brought  the  aid  oi 
a  fine  intellect  and  a  fluent  utterance,  and  he  soon  became 
the  orator  of  the  patriot  party. 

So  great  was  the  effect  created  by  his  fervid  eloquence,  and 
his  admirable  reasoning,  that  the  heads  of  the  college  thought 
it  prudent  on  several  occasions  to  send  one  of  the  ablest  of 
their  body  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings,  and  assist  in  refut- 
ing the  argumentation  of  the  "  young  Jacobin."  And  to  such 
extremities  did  matters  proceed  at  last  that  Emmet,  wi^h  sev 
eral  of  his  political  friends,  was  expelled  the  college,  others 
less  obnoxious  to  the  authorities  were  subjected  to  a  severe  re- 
primand, and  the  society,  thus  terrorised  and  weakened,  soon 
ceased  to  exist.  Our  nationel  poet,  Thomas  Moore,  the  fel- 
low-student and  intimate  friend  of  young  Emmet,  witnessed 
many  of  those  displays  of  his  abilities,  and  in  his  "  Life  and 
Death  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,"  speaks  of  him  in  terms  of 
the  highest  admiration.     *'  Were  I,"  he  says,  "  to  number  the 


^O  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

men  among  all  I  have  ever  known  who  appeared  to  me  to  com. 
bine  in  the  greatest  degree  pure  moral  worth  with  intellectual 
power,  I  should,  among  the  highest  ot  the  few,  place  Robert 
Emmet."  ''  He  was,"  writes  the  same  authority,  ''wholly  free 
from  the  follies  and  frailties  of  youth — though  how  capable  he 
was  of  the  most  devoted  passion  events  afterwards  proved." 
Of  his  oratory,  he  says,  ''  I  have  heard  little  since  that  appeared 
to  me  of  a  loftier,  or  what  is  a  far  more  rare  quality  in  Irish 
eloquence,  purer  character."  And  the  appearance  of  this  greatly 
gifted  youth  he  thus  describes :  ''  Simple  in  all  his  habits,  and 
with  a  repose  of  look  and  manner  indicating  but  little  move- 
ment within,  it  was  only  when  the  spring  was  touched  th'at  set 
his  feelings,  and  through  them  his  intellect  in  motion,  that  he 
at  all  lose  above  the  level  of  ordinary  men.  No  two  individ- 
uals indeed  could  be  mach  more  unlike  to  each  other  than  was 
the  same  youth  to  himself  before  rising  to  speak,  and  after  ;  the 
brow  that  had  appeared  inanimate  and  almost  drooping,  at 
once  elevating  itself  to  all  the  consciousness  of  power,  and  the 
whole  countenance  and  figure  of  the  speaker  assuming  a  change, 
as  of  one  suddenly  inspired." 

The  expulsion  of  Emmet  from  the  college  occurred  in  the 
month  of  February,  1798.  On  the  12th  of  the  following  month 
his  brother,  Thomas  Addis  Emmet,  was  arrested.  The  man- 
ner in  which  this  noble-hearted  gentleman  took  the  oath  of  the 
United  Irish  Society,  in  the  year  1795,  is  so  remarkable  that 
we  cannot  omit  mention  of  it  here  His  services  as  a  laywer 
having  been  engaged  in  the  defence  of  some  persons  who  stood 
charged  with  having  sworn  in  members  to  the  United  Irish 
organization — the  crime  for  which  William  Orr  was  subse- 
quently tried  and  executed — he,  in  the  course  of  the  proceed- 
ings, took  up  the  oath  and  lead  it  with  remarkable  deliberation 
and  solemnity.  Then,  taking  into  his  hand  the  prayer-book  that 
lay  on  the  table  for  the  swearing  of  witnesses,  and  looking  to  the 
bench  and  around  the  court,  he  said  aloud: — 

"  My  Lords — Here,  in  the  presence  of  this  legal  court,  this 
crowded  auditory — in  the  presence  of  the  Being  that  sees  and 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


41 


witnesses,  and  directs  this  judicial  tribunal — here,  my  lords,  I, 
myself,  in  the  presence  of  God,  declare  I  take  this  oath." 

The  terms  of  the  oath  at  this  time  were,  in  fact,  perfectly 
constitutional,  having  reference  simply  to  attainment  of  a  due 
representation  of  the  Irish  nation  in  parliament — still,  the  oath 
was  that  of  a  society  declared  to  be  illegal,  and  the  administra- 
tion of  it  had  been  made  a  capital  oftence.  The  boldness  of 
the  advocate  in  thus  admmstering  it  to  himself  in  open  court 
appeared  to  paralyze  the  minds  of  the  judges.  They  took  no 
notice  of  the  act,  and  what  was  even  more  remarkable,  the 
prisoners,  who  were  convicted,  received  a  lenient  sentence. 

But  to  return  to  Robert  Emmet — the  events  of  1798,  as  might 
be  supposed,  had  a  powerful  effect  on  the  feelings  of  the 
enthusiastic  young  patriot,  and  he  was  not  free  of  active  parti- 
cipation  with  the  leaders  of  the  movement  in  Dublin.  He  was, 
of  course,  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  government,  and  it 
appears  marvellous  that  they  did  not  immediately  take  him 
into  their  safe  keeping,  under  the  provisions  of  the  habeas 
corpus  suspension  act.  Ere  long,  however,  he  found  that  pru- 
dence would  counsel  his  concealment,  or  his  disappearance 
from  the  co mtry,  and  he  took  his  departure  for  the  Continent, 
where  he  met  with  a  whole  host  of  the  Irish  refugees;  and,  in 
1802,  was  joined  by  his  brother  and  others  of  the  political 
prisoners  who  had  been  released  from  the  confinement  to 
which — in  violation  of  a  distinct  agreement  between  them  and 
the  government — they  had  been  subjected  in  Fort  George,  in 
Scotland.  Their  sufferings  had  not  broken  their  spirits.  There 
was  hope  still,  they  thought,  for  Ireland;  great  opportunities 
were  about  to  dawn  upon  that  often  defeated,  but  still  uncon- 
querable nation,  and  they  applied  themselves  to  the  task  ot 
preparing  the  Irish  people  to  take  advantage  of  them. 

At  home  the  condition  of  affairs  was  not  such  as  to  dis. 
courage  them.  The  people  had  not  lost  heart  ;  the  fighting 
spirit  was  still  rife  amongst  them.  The  rebellion  had  been 
trampled  out,  but  it  had  been  sustained  mainly  by  a  county  or 
two,  and    it    had  served  to  show  that  a  general   uprising  of 


42 


SPEECHES  EROM    THE  DOCK. 


the  people  would  be  sufficient  to  sweep  every  vestige  of  British 
power  from  the  land.     Then  they  had  in  their  favor  the   cxas. 
peration  against  the  government  which   was  caused   by   that 
most  infamous  transaction,  the  passage  of  the  Act  o<"  Union. 
But  they  found  their  chief  encouragement  in  the  imminence  of 
another  war  between   France  and    England.     Once   more  the 
United    Irishmen    put    themselves    into    communication    with 
Bonaparte,  then   First  Consul,  and  again  they  received  flatter- 
ing promises  of  assistance      Robert  Emmet  obtained  an  inter- 
view with  that  great  man,  and  learned   from   him   that  it  was 
his  settled  purpose,  on   the  breaking   out  of  hostilities,  which 
could  not  long  be  deferred,  to  effect  an  invasion  of  England. 
Full  of  high   hopes,  Emmet  returned    to   Dublin    in  October, 
1802 ;  and  as  he  was  now  in  the  very  heart  of  a  movement  for 
another  insurrection,  he  took  every  precaution   to   avoid  dis- 
covery     He  passed  under  feigned  names,  and  moved  about  as 
little  as  possible.      He  gathered  together  the  remnants  of  the 
United  Irish  organization,  and  with    some  money  of  his  own, 
added  to  considerable  sums  supplied  to  him  by  a   Mr.  Long,  a 
merchant,  residing   at    No.  4  Crow  Street,   and  other    sympa- 
thizers, he  commenced  the  collection  of  an  armament  and  mili- 
tary stores  for  his  followers.     In  the  month  of  May,  1803,  the 
expected  war  between  France   and  England   broke   out.     This 
event  of  course  raised  still  higher  his  hopes,  and   gave  a  great 
stimulus  to  his  exertions.     To  and  fro  he  went  from  one  to 
another  of  the  depots  which   he  had  established  for  the  manu- 
facture and  storage  of  arms  in  various  parts  of  the  city,  cheer- 
ing, directing  and  assisting  his  men  at  their  work.    Pikes  were  got 
ready  by  the  thousand,  and  ingeniously  stowed  away  until  they 
should  be  wanted  ;  rockets,  hand-grenades,  and  other  deadly  mis- 
siles were  carefully  prepared  ;  but  an  accidental  explosion,  which 
occurred   on  the   i6th  of  July,  in  one  of   these  manufactories, 
situate  in  Patrick  Street,  was  very  near  leading  to  the  discovery 
of  the  entire  business,  and  had  the  effect  of  precipitating  the 
outbreak.     The  government  at  this  time  had   undoubtedly  got 
9n   the    scent    of   the  movement,  and  the  leaders    considered 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK, 


43 


that  no  time  was  to  be  lost  in  bringing  matters  to  a  crisis. 
Emmet  now  took  up  his  abode  in  che  Marshalsea  Lane  depot, 
snatching  his  few  hours'  sleep  "on  a  mattress,  surrounded  by 
all  the  implements  of  death."  There  he  made  a  final  arrange- 
ment  of  his  plans,  and  communicated  his  instructions  to  his 
subordinates,  fixing  the  23rd  of  July  as  the  date  for  the  rising. 

The  history  of  that  unfortunate  attempt  need  not  here  be 
written-     Suffice  it  to  say  that  the   arrangements  miscarried  in 
nearly  every  particular.     The  men  in  the  numbers  calculated 
upon  did  not  assemble  at  the  appointed  time  or  in  the  appointed 
places,  and  the  whole  force  that  turned  out  m  Thomas  Street 
for  the  attack  on  the  Castle  did  not  number  a  hundred  m«ur- 
gents.     They  were  joined  by  a  riotous  and  noisy  rabble ;  and 
their   unfortunate    leader    soon    perceived    that    his    following 
was,  as  had    previously  been    said  of  the  king's  troops,  "  for- 
midable to  every  one  but  the  enemy."     They  had  not  proceeded 
far  on  their  way  when  a  carriage,  >n  which  were  Lord  Kilwar- 
den,  Chief-Justice  of  the   King's  Bench,  hib  daughter,  and  his 
nephew,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wolfe,  drove  into  the  street.     The  vehi- 
cle was  stopped,  and  the  Chief-Justice  was  immediately  piked 
by  a  man  in  the  crowd,  whose  son  he  had  some  time  previously 
condemned  to  execution.     The  clergyman  also  was  pulled  out 
of  the  carriage,  and  put  to  death.     To  the  lady  no  violence  was 
offered,  and  Emmet  himself,  who  had  heard  of  the  deplorable 
tragedy,  rushing   from  the  head    of  his  party,  bore  her  in  his 
arms  to  an  adjoining  house.     No   attack  on   the  Castle  took 
place;  the  insurgent  party  scattered  and  melted  away  even  be. 
fore  the  appearance  of  military  on  the  scene,  and  In  little  more 
than  an  hour  from  the  time  of  his  setting  out  on  his  desperate 
enterprise,  Robert   Emmet  was  a  defeated   and  ruined  man,  a 
fugitive,  with  the  whole  host  of  British  spies  and  bloodhounds 
employed  to  hum  him  to  the  death. 

Yet  he  might  have  foiled  them,  and  got  clear  out  of  the 
country,  if  his  personal  safety  was  all  on  earth  he  cared  for. 
But  in  that  noble  heart  of  his  there  Was  one  passion  coexistent 
with  his  love  foi  Ireland   and  not  unworthy  of  the  companion 


-4  Sf'EECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

ship,  which  forbade  his  immediate  flight.  With  all  that  inten. 
sity  of  affection  of  which  a  nature  so  pure  and  so  ardent  as  his 
was  capable,  he  loved  a  being  in  every  way  worthy  of  him — a 
lady  so  gentle,  and  good,  and  fair,  that  even  to  a  less  poetic 
imagination  than  his  own,  she  might  seem  to  be  a  fitting  per- 
sonification of  his  beloved  Erin  ;  and  by  her  he  was  loved  and 
trusted  in  return.  Who  is  it  that  has  not  heard  her  name? — 
who  has  not  mourned  over  the  story  of  Sarah  Curran  !  In  the 
ruin  that  had  fallen  on  the  hopes  and  fortunes  of  the  patriotic 
chief,  the  happiness  of  this  amiable  lady  was  involved.  He 
would  not  leave  without  an  interview  with  her — no!  though 
a  thousand  deaths  should  be  the  penalty.  The  delay  was  fatal 
to  his  chances  of  escape.  For  more  than  a  month  he  remained 
in  concealment,  protected  by  the  fidelity  of  friends,  many  of 
whom  belonged  to  the  humbler  walks  of  life,  and  one  of  whom 
in  particular — the  heroic  Anne  Devlin,  from  whom  neither 
proffered  bribes  nor  cruel  tortures  could  extort  a  single  hint  as 
to  his  place  of  abode — should  ever  be  held  in  grateful  remem- 
brance by  Irishmen.  At  length,  on  the  25th  of  August,  the 
ill-fated  young  gentleman  was  arrested  in  the  house  of  a  Mrs. 
Palmer,  at  Harold's-cross.  On  the  19th  of  September  he  was 
put  on  his  trial  in  the  court-house,  Green  Street,  charged  with 
high  treason.  He  entered  on  no  defence,  beyond  making  a  few 
remarks  in  the  course  of  the  proceedings  with  a  view  to  the 
moral  and  political  justification  of  his  conduct.  The  jury,  with- 
out leaving  their  box,  returned  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  him  ; 
after  which,  having  been  asked  in  due  form  why  sentence  of 
death  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  him,  he  delivered  this 
memorable  speech,  every  line  of  which  is  known  and  dear  to 
the  hearts  of  the  Irish  race  : — 

"  My  Lords, — I  am  asked  what  have  I  to  say  why  sentence  of 
death  should  not  be  pronounced  on  me,  according  to  law.  I  have 
nothing  to  say  that  can  alter  your  predetermination,  nor  that  it  will  be- 
come me  to  say,  with  any  view  to  the  mitigation  of  that  sentence 
which  you  are  to  pronounce,  and  I  must  abide  by.  But  I  have  that 
to  say  which  interests  me  more  than  life,  and  which  you  have  labored 
to  destroy.     I  have  much  to  say  why  ray  reputation  should  be  rescued 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK 


45 


from  the  load  of  false  accusation  and  calumny  which  has  1  een  cast  upon  it. 
I  do  not  imagine  that,  seated  where  you  are,  your  mind  can  be  so  free 
from  prejudice  as  to  receive  the  least  impression  from  what  1  am  go- 
ing to  utter.  I  have  no  hopes  that  I  can  anchor  my  character  in  the 
breast  of  a  court  constituted  and  trammelled  as  this  is.  I  only  wish, 
and  that  is  the  utmost  that  I  expect,  that  your  lordships  may  suffer  it  to 
float  down  your  memories  untainted  by  the  foul  breath  of  prejudice, 
until  it  finds  some  more  hospitable  harbor  to  shelter  it  from  tlie 
storms  by  which  it  is  buffeted.  Was  I  only  to  suffer  death  after  being 
adjudged  guilty  by  your  tribunal,  I  should  bow  in  silence,  and  meet 
the  fate  that  awaits  me  without  a  murmur  ;  but  the  sentence  of  the 
law  which  delivers  my  body  to  the  excutioner  will,  through  the  min- 
istry of  the  law,  labor  in  its  own  vindication,  to  consign  my  character 
to  obloquy;  for  there  must  be  guilt  somewhere,  whether  in  the  sentence 
of  the  court,  or  in  the  catastrophe,  time  must  determine.  A  man  in 
my  situation  has  not  only  to  encounter  the  difficulties  ot  fortune,  and 
the  force  of  power  over  minds  which  it  has  corrupted  or  subjugated, 
but  the  difficulties  of  established  prejudice.  The  man  dies,  but  his 
memory  lives.  That  mine  may  not  perish,  that  it  may  live  in  the  re- 
spect of  my  countrymen,  I  seize  upon  this  opportunity  to  vindicate 
myself  from  some  of  the  charges  alleged  against  me.  When  my  spirit 
shall  be  wafted  to  a  more  friendly  port — when  my  shade  shall  have 
joined  the  bands  of  those  martyred  heroes  who  have  shed  their  blood 
on  the  scaffold  and  in  the  field  in  the  defence  of  their  country,  and  of 
virtue,  this  my  hope — I  wish  that  my  memory  and  name  may  animate 
those  who  survive  me,  while  I  look  down  with  complacency  on  the  de- 
struction of  that  perfidious  goverment  which  upholds  its  domination  by 
blasphemy  of  the  Most  High — which  displays  its  power  over  man,  as 
over  the  beasts  of  the  forest — which  sets  man  upon  his  brother,  and 
lifts  his  hand  in  the  name  of  God,  against  the  throat  of  his  fellow  who 
believes  or  doubts  a  little  more  or  a  little  less  than  the  government 
standard — a  government  which  is  steeled  to  barbarity  by  the  cries  of 
the  orphans,  and  the  tears  of  the  widows  it  has  made." 

[Here  Lord  Norbury  interrupted  Mr.  Emmet,  saying — ''That  the 
mean  and  wicked  enthusiasts  who  felt  as  he  did,  were  not  equal  to  the 
accomplishment  of  their  wild  designs."] 

"I  appeal  to  the  immaculate  God — I  swear  by  the  throne  of 
Heaven,  before  which  I  must  shortly  appear — by  the  blood  of  the 
murdered  patriots  who  have  gone  before  me — that  my  conduct  has 
been,  through  all  this  peril,  and  through  all  my  purposes,  governed 
only  by  the  conviction  which  I  have  uttered,  and  by  no  other  view 
than  that  of  the  emancipation  of  my  country  from  the  superinhuman 
oppression  under  which  she  has  so  long  and  too  patiently  travailed; 
and  I  confidently  hope  that,  wild  and  chimerical  as  it  may  appear, 
there  is  still  union  and  strength  in  Ireland  to  accomplish  this  noblest 
of  enterprises.     Of  this  I  speak  with  the  confidence  of  intimate  knowl- 


^6  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

edge,  and  with  the  consolatiorx  that  appertains  to  that  confidence. 
Think  not,  my  lords,  I  say  this  for  the  petty  gratification  of  giving 
you  a  transitory  uneasiness.  A  man  who  never  yet  raised  his  voice  to 
assert  a  lie,  will  not  hazard  his  character  with  posterity,  by  asserting 
a  falsehood  on  a  subject  so  important  to  his  country,  and  on  an  oc- 
casion like  this.  Yes,  my  lords,  a  man  who  does  not  wish  to  have 
his  epitaph  written  until  his  country  is  liberated,  will  not  leave  a 
weapon  in  the  power  of  envy,  or  a  pretence  to  impeach  the  probity 
which  he  means  to  preserve,  even  in  the  grave  to  which  tyranny  con- 
signs him." 

[Here  he  was  again  interrupted  by  the  court.] 

"  Again  I  say,  that  what  I  have  spoken  was  not  intended  for  your 
lordship,  whose  situation  I  commisserate  rather  than  envy — my  ex- 
pressions were  for  my  countrymen.  If  there  is  a  true  Irishman  pres- 
ent, let  my  last  words  cheer  him  in  the  hour  of  his  afiliction." 

[Here  he  was  again  interrupted.  Lord  Norbury  said  he  did  not  sit 
there  to  hear  treason.] 

"  I  have  always  understood  it  to  be  the  duty  of  a  judge,  when  a  pris- 
oner has  been  convicted,  to  pronounce  the  sentence  of  the  law.     I  have 
also  understood  that  judges  sometimes  think  it  their  duty  to  hear  with 
patience,  and  to  speak  with  humanity  ;   to  exhort  the  victim  of  the 
laws,  and  to  offer,  with  tender  benignity,  their  opinions  of  the  motives 
by   which  he  was   actuated   in  the  crime  of  which  he  was  adjudged 
guilty.     That  a  judge  has  thought  it  his  duty  so  to  have  done,  I  have 
no  doubt ;  but  where  is  the  boasted   freedom   of  your  institutions — 
where    is    the    vaunted  impartiality,  clemency,  and  mildness  of  your 
courts  of  justice,  if  an  unfortunate  prisoner,  whom  your  policy,  and  not 
justice,  is  about  to  deliver  into  the  hands  of  the  executioner,  is  not 
suffered  to  explain  his  motives  sincerely  and  truly,  and  to  vindicate 
the  principles  by  which  he  was  actuated?       My  lords,  it  may  be  a  part 
of  the  system  of  angry  justice  to  bow  a  man's  mind  by  humiliation  to 
the  purposed  ignominy  of  the  scaffold  ;  but  worse  to  me  than  the  pur- 
posed shame  of  the  scaffold's  terrors,  would  be  the  shame  of  such  foul  and 
unfounded  imputations  as  have  been  laid  against  me  in  this  court. 
You,  my  lord,  are  a  judge  ;   I  am  the  supposed  culprit.     I  am  a  man  ; 
you  are  a  man,  also.      By  a  revolution  of  power  we  might  change  places, 
though  we  never  could  change  characters.     If  I  stand  at  the  bar  of 
this  court,  and  dare  not  vindicate  my  character,  what  a  farce  is  your 
justice!     If  I  stand  at  this  bar,  and  dare  not  vindicate  my  character 
how  dare  you  calumniate  it.     Does  the  sentence  of  death,  which  your 
unhallowed  policy  infiicts  on  my  body,  condemn  my  tongue  to  silence, 
and  my  reputation  to  reproach  ?     Your  executioner  may  abridge  the 
period  of  my  existence  ;  but  while  I  exist,  I  shall  not  forbear  to  vindi- 
cate my  character  and  motives  from  your  aspersions  ;  and  as  a  man, 
to  whom  fame  is  dearer  than  life,  I  will  make  the  last  use  of  that  life 
in  doing  justice  to  that  reputation  which  is  to  live  after  me,  and  which 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  4^ 

is  the  only  legacy  I  can  leave  to  those  I  honor  and  love,  and  for  whom 
I  am  proud  to  perish.  As  men,  my  lords,  we  must  appear  on  the  great 
day  at  one  common  tribunal  ;  and  it  will  then  remain  for  the  Searcher 
of  all  hearts  to  show  a  collective  universe,  who  was  engaged  in  the 
mosi  virtuous  actions,  or  swayed  by  the  purest  motives — my  country's 
oppressors  or" — 

[Here  he  was  interrupted,  and  told  to  listen  to  the  sentence  of  the 
law]. 

"  My  lords,  will  a  dying  man  be  denied  the  legal  privilege  of  excul- 
pating himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  community  from  an  undeserved  re- 
proach, thrown  upon  him  during  his  trial,  by  charging  him  with  am- 
bition, and  attempting  to  cast  away  for  a  paltry  consideration  the  lib- 
erties of  his  country  ?  Why  did  your  lordships  insult  me  ?  Or,  rather, 
why  insult  justice,  in  demanding  of  me  why  sentence  of  death  should 
not  be  pronounced  against  me  ^  I  know,  my  lords,  that  form  prescribes 
that  you  should  ask  the  question.  The  form  also  presents  the  right  of 
answering.  This,  no  doubt,  may  be  dispensed  with,  and  so  might  the 
whole^ceremony  of  the  trial,  since  sentence  was  already  pronounced  at 
A  -the  Castle  before  the  jury  v/as  empanelled.  Your  lordships  are  but 
JVi'he  priests  of  the  oracle,  and  I  insist  on  the  whole  of  the  forms." 
i  .  y[Here  Mr.  Emmet  paused,  and  the  court  desired  him  to  proceed.] 
1  \r  "I  am  charged  with  being  an  emissary  of  France.  An  emissary  of 
France!  and  for  what  end?  It  is  alleged  thct  I  wished  to  sell  the  in- 
dependence of  my  country  ;  and  for  what  end?  Was  this  the  object  of  my 
ambition?  And  is  this  the  mode  by  which  a  tribunal  of  justice  recon- 
ciles contradiction?  No  ;  I  am  no  emissary;  and  my  ambition  was 
to  hold  a  place  among  the  deliverers  of  my  country,  not  in  power,  nor 
in  profit,  but  in  the  glory  of  the  achievement.  Sell  my  country's  inde- 
pendence to  France!  and  for  what?  Was  it  a  change  of  masters? 
No,  but  for  my  ambition.  Oh,  my  country,  was  it  personal  ambition 
that  could  influence  me?  Had  it  been  the  soul  of  my  actions,  could  I 
not,  by  my  education  and  fortune,  by  the  rank  and  consideration  of 
my  family,  have  placed  myself  amongst  the  proudest  of  your  oppres- 
sors. My  country  was  my  Idol.  To  it  I  sacrificed  every  selfish,  every 
endearing  sentiment  ;  and  for  it  I  now  offer  up  myself,  O  God  !  No, 
my  lords  ;  I  acted  as  an  Irishman,  determined  on  delivering  my 
country  from  the  yoke  of  a  foreign  and  unrelenting  tyranny^-and  the 
more  galling  yoke  of  a  domestic  faction,  which  is  its  joint  partner  and 
perpetrator  in  the  patricide,  from  the  ignominy  existing  with  an  exte- 
rior of  splendor  and  a  conscious  depravity.  It  was  the  wish  of  my 
heart  to  extricate  my  country  from  this  doubly-riveted  despotism — I 
wished  to  place  her  independence  beyond  the  reach  of  any  power  on 
earth  I  wished  to  exalt  her  to  that  proud  station  in  the  world.  Con- 
nection with  France  was,  indeed,  intended,  but  only  as  far  as  mutual 
interest  would  sanction  or  require.  Were  the  French  to  assume  any 
authority  inconsistent  with  the  purest  independence,  it  would  be  sig 


48  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

t 

nal  for  their  destruction.,  ^Ve  sought  their  aid — and  we  sought  it  as 
wt  had  assurance  we  should  obtain  it — as  auxiliaries  in  war,  allies  in 
peace.  Were  the  French  to  come  as  invaders  or  enemies,  uninvited 
by  the  wishes  of  the  people,  I  should  oppose  them  to  the  utmost  of 
my  strength.  Yes  !  my  countrymen,  I  should  advise  you  to  meet 
them  upon  the  beach  with  a  sword  in  one  hand,  and  a  torch  in  the 
other.  I  would  meet  them  with  all  the  destructive  fury  of  war.  I 
would  animate  my  countrymen  to  immolate  them  in  their  boats,  before 
they  had  contaminated  the  soil  of  my  country.  If  they  succeeded  in 
landing,  and  if  forced  to  retire  before  superior  discipline,  I  would  dis- 
pute every  inch  of  ground,  burn  every  blade  of  grass,  and  the  last  en- 
trenchment of  liberty  should  be  my  grave.  What  I  could  not  do  my- 
self, if  I  should  fall,  I  should  leave  as  a  last  charge  to  my  countrymen 
(  to  accomplish  ;  because  I  should  feel  conscious  that  life,  any  more 
)  than  death,  is  unprofitable  when  a  foreign  nation  holds  my  country  in 
^  subjection.  But  it  was  not  as  an  enemy  that  the  succors  of  France 
were  to  land.  I  looked,  indeed,  for  the  assistance  of  France  ;  but  I 
wished  to  prove  to  France  and  to  the  world  that  Irishmen  deserved  to 
be  assisted — that  they  were  indignant  at  slavery,  and  ready  to  assert 
the  independence  and  liberty  of  their  country  ;  I  wished  to  procure 
for  my  country  the  guarantee  which  Washington  procured  for  America 
— to  procure  an  aid  which,  by  its  example,  would  be  as  important  as 
its  valor  ;  disciplined,  gallant,  pregnant  with  science  and  experience  ; 
that  of  a  people  who  would  perceive  the  good,  and  polish  the  rough 
points  of  our  character.  They  would  come  to  us  as  strangers,  and 
leave  Uo  as  friends,  after  sharing  in  our  perils,  and  elevating  our  destiny. 
These  were  my  objects  ;  not  to  receive  new  taskmasters,  but  to  expel 
old  tyrants.  It  was  for  these  ends  I  sought  aid  from  France;  because 
France,  even  as  an  enemy,  could  not  be  more  implacable  than  the  enemy 
already  in  the  bosom  of  my  country^" 

[Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  court.] 

*'I  have  been  charged  with  that  importance  in  the  emancipation  of 
my  country,  as  to  be  considered  the  key-stone  of  the  combination  of 
Irishmen  ;  or,  as  your  lordship  expressed  it,  "  the  life  and  blood  of 
/the  conspiracy."  You  dome  honor  over  much  ;  you  have  given  to  the 
subaltern  all  the  credit  of  a  superior.  There  are  men  engaged  in  this 
conspiracy  who  are  not  only  superior  to  me,  but  even  to  your  own  con- 
ceptions of  yourself,  my  lord — men  before  the  splendor  of  whose  genius 
and  virtues  I  should  bow  with  respectful  deference,  and  who  would 
think  themselves  disgraced  by  shaking  your  blood-stained  hand.*' 

[Here  he  was  interrupted.]' 

*'What,  my  lord,  shall  you  tell  me,  on  the  passage  to  the  scaffold, 
which  that  tyranny  (of  which  you  are  only  the  intermediary  execu- 
tioner} has  erected  for  my  murder,  that  I  am  accountable  for  all  the 
blood  that  has  and  will  be  shed  m  this  struggle  of  the  oppressed 
against  the  oppressor — shall  you  tell  me  this,  and  must  I  be  so  very 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


49 


a  slave  as  not  to  repel  it  ?  I  do  not  fear  to  approach  the  Omnipo- 
tent Judge  to  answer  for  the  conduct  of  my  whole  life  ;  and  am  I  to  be 
appalled  and  falsified  by  a  mere  remnant  of  mortality  here  ?"  By  you, 
too,  although  if  it  were  possible  to  collect  all  the  innocent  blood  that 
you  have  shed  in  your  unhallowed  ministry  in  one  great  reservior, 
your  lordship  might  swim  in  it." 

[Here  the  judge  interfered.] 

"  Let  no  man  dare,  when  I  am  dead,  to  charge  me  with  dishonor  ; 
let  no  man  attaint  my  memory,  by  believing  that  I  could  have  engaged 
in  any  cause  but  that  of  my  country's  liberty  and  independence  ;  or 
that  I  could  have  become  the  pliant  minion  of  power,  in  the  oppres- 
sion and  misery  of  my  country.  \  The  proclamation  of  the  Provisional 
Government  speaks  for  our  views  ;  no  inference  can  be  tortured  from 
it  to  countenance  barbarity  or  debasement  at  home,  or  subjection, 
humiliation,  or  treachery  from  abroad.  I  would  not  have  submitted 
to  a  foreign  oppressor,  for  the  same  reason  that  I  would  resist  the 
foreign  and  domestic  oppressor.  In  the  dignity  of  freedom,  I  would 
have  fought  upon  the  threshold  of  my  country,  and  its  enemy  should 
enter  only  by  passing  over  my  lifeless  corpse.  And  am  I,  who  lived 
but  for  my  country,  and  who  have  subjected  myself  to  the  dangers  of 
the  jealous  and  watchful  oppressor,  and  the  bondage  of  the  grave, 
only  to  give  my  countrymen  their  rights,  and  my  country  her  independ- 
ence, am  I  to  be  loaded  with  calumny,  and  not  suffered  to  resent  it  ? 
No  ;  God  forbid !'l- 

Here  Lord  Norbury  told  Mr.  Emmet  that  his  sentiments  and  lan- 
guage disgraced  his  family  and  his  education,  but  more  particularly 
his  father.  Dr.  Emmet,  who  was  a  man,  if  alive,  that  would  not  coun- 
tenance such  opinions.     To  which  Mr.  Emmet  replied  : — 

"  If  the  spirits  of  the  illustrious  dead  participate  in  the  concerns 
and  cares  of  those  who  were  dear  to  them  in  this  transitory  life,  oh  ! 
ever  dear  and  venerated  shade  of  my  departed  father,  look  down  with 
scrutiny  upon  the  conduct  of  your  suffering  son,  and  see  if  1  have, 
even  for  a  moment,  deviated  from  those  principles  of  morality  and 
patriotism  which  it  was  your  care  to  instil  into  my  youthful  mind,  and 
for  which  I  am  now  about  to  offer  up  my  life.  My  lords,  you  are  im- 
patient for  the  sacrifice.  The^bjood  which  you  seek  is  not  congealed 
by  the  artificial  terrors  which  s\irround  your  victim — it  circulates 
warmly  and  unruffled  through  the  channels  which  God  created  for 
noble  purposes,  but  which  you  ajfie  now  bent  to  destroy,  for  purposes 
so  grievous  that  they  cry  to  heayen.  Be  yet  patient  !  I  have  but  a  few 
more  words  to  say — I  am  going  to  my  cold  and  silent  grave — my  lamp 
)f  life  is  nearly  extinguished — my  race  is  run — the  grave  opens  to 
receive  me,  and  I  sink  into  its  bosojn.  I  have  but  one  request  to  ask 
at  my  departure  from  this  world,  it  is — the  charity  of  its  silence. 
Let  no  man  write  my  epitaph  ;  for  as  no  man  who  knows  my  motives 
dare  now  vindicate  them,  let  not  prejudice  or  ignorance  asperse  them. 


JO  SPEECHES  FMOM  THE  DOCK 

Let  them  and  me  rest  in  obscurity  and  peace  ;  and  my  tomb  remain 
uninscribed,  and  my  memory  in  oblivion,  until  other  times  and  other 
men  can  do  justice  to  my  character.  When  my  country  takes  hei 
place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth,  then  and  ?wt  till  the?iy  let  my 
epitaph  be  written.     I  have  done." 

This  affecting  address   was  spoken — as  we  learn    from  the 

painstaking  and  generous  biographer  of  the  United  Irishmen, 

Dr.  Madden — *'  in  so  loud  a  voice  as  to  be  distinctly  heard  at 

the  outer  doors  of  the  court-house ;  and  yet,  though  he  spoke 

in  a  loud  tone,  there  was  nothing  boisterous  in  his  manner;  his 

iccents  and  cadence  of  voice,  on  the  contrary,  were  exquisitely 

.nodulated.     His  action  was   very  remarkable,    its  greater  or 

lesser   vehemence  corresponded  with  the  rise  and  fall   of  his 

voice.     He  is  described  as  moving  about  the  dock,  as  he  warmed 

in  his  address,  with  rapid,  but  not  ungraceful  motions — now  in 

front  of   the  railing   before  the    bench,  then    retirmg,  as  if   his 

body,  as  well  as  his  mind,  were  swelling  beyond  the  measure 

of  its  chains.     His  action  was  not  confined  to  his  hands ;  he 

seemed  to  have  acquired  a  swaying  motion  of  the  body  when 

he  spoke  in  public,  which  was  peculiar  to  him,  but  there  was 

no  affectation  in  it." 

At  ten  o'clock,  p.m.,  on  the  day  of  his  trial,  the  barbarous 
sentence  of  the  law — the  same  that  we  have  so  recently  heard 
passed  on  prisoners  standing  in  that  same  dock,  accused  of  the 
same  offence  against  the  rulers  of  this  country — was  passed  on 
Robert  Emmet.  Only  a  few  hours  were  given  him  in  which  to 
withdraw  his  thoughts  from  the  things  of  this  world,  and  fix 
them  on  the  next.  He  was  hurried  away,  at  midnight,  from 
Newgate  to  Kilmainham  jail,  passing  through  Thomas  Street, 
the  scene  of  his  attempted  insurrection.  Hardly  had  the  prison- 
van  driven  through,  when  workmen  arrived  and  commenced  the 
erection  of  the  gibbet  from  which  his  body  was  to  be  suspended. 
About  the  hour  of  noon,  on  the  20th  of  September,  he  mounted 
the  scaffold  with  a  firm  and  composed  demeanor ;  a  minute  or 
two  more,  and  the  lifeless  remains  of  one  of  the  most  gifted  of 
God's  creatures  hung  from   the  crossbeams — slrangled  by  the 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


51 


enemies  of  his  country — cut  off  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  in  the 
prime  of  his  physical  and  intellectual  powers,  because  he  had 
loved  his  own  land,  hated  her  oppressors,  and  striven  to  give 
freedom  to  his  people.  But  not  yet  was  English  vengeance 
satiafied.  While  the  body  was  yet  warm  it  was  cut  down  from 
the  gibbet,  the  nec'c  placed  across  a  block  on  the  scaffold,  and 
the  head  severed  from  the  body.  Then  the  executioner  held  it 
up  before  the  horrified  and  sorrowing  crowd  that  stood  outside 
the  lines  of  soldiery,  proclaimmg  to  them — -''  This  is  the  head 
of  a  traitor!"  A  traitor!  It  was  a  false  proclamation.  No 
traitor  was  he,  but  a  true  and  noble  gentleman.  No  traitor, 
but  a  most  faithful  heart  to  all  that  was  worthy  of  love  and 
honor.  No  traitor,  but  a  martyr  for  Ireland  The  people 
who  stood  agonized  before  his  scaffold,  tears  streaming  from 
their  eyes,  and  their  hearts  bursting  with  suppressed  emotion, 
knew  that  for  them  and  for  Ireland  he  had  offered  up  his  young 
life.  And  when  the  deed  was  finished,  and  the  mutilated  body 
had  been  taken  away,  and  the  armed  guards  had  marched  from 
the  fatal  spot,  old  people  and  young  moved  up  to  it  to  dip  their 
handkerchiefs  in  the  blood  of  the  martyr,  that  they  might  then 
treasure  up  the  relics  forever.  Well  has  his  memory  been 
cherished  in  the  Irish  heart  from  that  day  to  the  present  time. 
Six  years  ago  a  procession  of  Irishmen,  fifteen  thousand 'strong, 
bearing  another  rebel  to  his  grave,  passed  by  the  scene  of  that 
execution,  every  man  of  whom  reverently  uncovered  his  head  as 
he  reached  the  hallowed  spot.  A  few  months  ago,  a  banner 
borne  in  another  Irish  insurrection  displayed  the  inscription — 

"  REMEMBER   EMMET." 

Far  away  "  beyond  the  Atlantic  foam,"  and  "  by  the  long  wash 
of  Australasian  seas,"  societies  are  in  existence  bearing  his  name, 
and  having  for  their  object  to  cherish  his  memory  and  perpetuate 
his  principles.  And  wherever  on  the  habitable  globe  a  few 
members  of  the  scattered  Irish  race  are  to  be  found,  there  are 
hearts  that  are  thrilled  by  even  the  faintest  allusion  to  the 
uninscribed  grave-stone,  and  the  unwritten  epitaph. 


52  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK, 

THOMAS  RUSSELL. 
^HEN  Emmet  was  dead,  and  the  plan  to  which  he  de^ 


voted  his  fortune,  his  talents,  and  his  life,  had  sunk 
in  failure,  the  cause  of  Irish  independence  appeared 
finally  lost,  and  the  cry,  more  than  once  repeated  in 
after  times,  that  ''  now,  indeed,  the  last  bolt  ot  Irish 
disaffection  has  been  sped,  and  that  there  would  never 
again  be  an  Irish  rebellion,"  rung  loudly  from  the  exulting 
enemies  of  Ireland.  The  hearts  of  the  people  seemed  broken 
by  the  weight  of  the  misfortunes  and  calamities  that  over- 
whelmed them.  The  hopes  which  had  brightened  their  stormy 
path,  and  enabled  them  to  endure  the  oppression  to  which  they 
were  subjected  by  expectations  of  a  glorious  change,  flickered 
no  longer  amidst  the  darkness.  The  efforts  of  the  insurgents 
were  everywhere  drowned  in  blood  ,  the  hideous  memories  of 
'98  were  brought  up  anev/  ;  full  of  bitter  thoughts,  exasperated, 
humiliated,  and  despondent,  the  people  brooded  over  theif 
►wretched  fate,  and  sullenly  submitted  to  the  reign  of  terror 
which  was  inaugurated  amongst  them.  Little  had  the  Irish 
patriots  to  look  forward  to  in  that  dark  hour  of  suffering  and 
disappointment.  A  nightmare  of  blood  and  violence  weighed 
down  the  spirits  of  the  people  ;  a  stupor  appeared  to  have  fallen 
on  the  nation  ;  and  though  time  might  be  trusted  to  arouse 
them  from  the  trance,  they  had  suffered  another  loss,  not  so 
easily  repaired,  in  the  death  and  dispersion  of  their  leaders 
Where  now  should  they  find  the  Moses  to  lead  them  from  the 
land  of  captivity  ?  Tone,  Fitzgerald,  Emmet,  Bond,M'Cracken, 
the  Sheareses — all  were  dead.  M'Nevin,  Neilson,  and  O'Connor 
were  in  exile.  Heavily  and  relentlessly  the  arm  of  vengeance 
had  fallen  on  them,  one  by  one ;  but  the  list  was  not  even  then 
completed.  There  was  yet  another  victim  to  fall  before  the 
altar  of  liberty,  and  the  sacrifice  which  commenced  with  Orr 
did  not  conclude  until  Thomas  Russell  had  perished  on  the 
gallows  of  Downpatrick. 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


53 


The  importance  of  the  part  which  Thomas  Ruf^ell  fills  in  the 
history  of  the  United  Irishmen,  the  worth  of  his  character,  the 
purity  and  nobility  of  his  sentiments,  and  the  spirit  of  uncom- 
promising patriotism  displayed  in  his  last  address,  would  render 
unpardonable  the  omission  of  his  name  from  such  a  work  as 
this.  ''  I  mean  to  make  my  trial,"  said  Russell,  "and  the  last 
of  my  life,  it  it  is  to  close  now,  as  serviceable  to  the  cause  of 
liberty  as  I  can,"  and  he  kept  his  word.  To-day,  we  try  in  some 
slight  way  to  requite  that  fidelity  which  endured  unto  death, 
by  rescuing  Thomas  Russell's  name  from  oblivion,  and  recalling 
his  services  and  virtues  to  the  recollection  of  his  countrymen. 

He  was  born  at  Betsborough,  Dunnahane,  in  the  p:  rish  of 
Kilshanick,  county  Cork,  on  the  2ist  November,  1767.  His 
father  was  an  officer  in  the  British  army,  who  had  fought  against 
the  Irish  Brigade  in  the  memorable  battle'of  Fontenoy,  and 
who  died  in  a  high  situation  in  the  Royal  Hospital  at  Kilmain- 
ham.  Thomas,  the  youngest  of  his  three  sons,  was  educated 
for  the  Protestant  Church  ;  but  his  inclinations  sought  a  different 
field  of  action,  and  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  left  for  India  as  a 
volunteer,  where  he  served  with  his  brother,  Ambrose,  whose 
gallantry  in  battle  called  down  commendation  from  the  English 
king.  Thomas  Russell  quitted  India  after  five  years'  service, 
and  his  return  is  ascribed  to  the  disgust  and  indignation  which 
filled  him  on  witnessing  the  extortions,  the  cruelties,  the 
usurpations,  and  brutalities  which  were  carried  out  and  sanctioned 
by  the  government  under  which  he  served.  He  left  Ireland 
burdened  with  few  fixed  political  principles,  and  little  knowledge 
of  the  world  ;  he  returned  a  full-grown  man,  imbued  with  the 
opinions  which  he  never  afterwards  abandoned.  He  was  then, 
we  are  told,  a  model  of  manly  beauty,  one  of  those  favored 
mdividuals  whom  we  cannot  pass  in  the  street  without  being 
guilty  of  the  rudeness  of  staring  in  the  face  while  passing,  and 
turning  round  to  look  at  the  receding  figure.  Though  more 
than  six  feet  high,  his  majestic  stature  was  scarcely  observed, 
owing  to  the  exquisite  symmetry  of  his  form.  Martial  in  his 
gait  and  demeanor,  his  appearance  was  not  altogether  that  of 


-  .  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

a  soldier.  His  dark  and  steady  eye,  compressed  lip,  and  somewhat 
haughty  bearing,  were  occasionally  strongly  indicative  of  the 
camp  ;  but  in  general  the  classic  contour  of  his  finely-formed 
head,  the  expression  of  sweetness  that  characterized  his  smile, 
and  the  benevolence  that  beamed  in  his  fine  countenance,  seemed 
to  mark  him  out  as  one  that  was  destined  to  be  the  ornament, 
grace,  and  blessing  of  private  life.  His  manners  were  those  of 
the  finished  gentleman,  combined  with  that  native  grace  which 
nothing  but  superiority  of  intellect  can  give  ;  he  was  naturally 
reserved  and  retiring  in  disposition,  and  his  private  life  was  dis- 
tinguished by  eminent  purity,  and  an  unostentatious  devotion 
to  the  precepts  of  religion. 

Such  was  Thomas  Russell,  when  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Theobald  Wolfe  Tone  in  Dublin.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
views  and  opinions  of  Tone  made  a  profound  impression  on 
young  Russell ;  it  is  equally  certain,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
Tone  learned  to  love  and  esteem  his  new  friend,  whose  senti- 
ments were  so  much  in  accordance  with  his  own.  Throughout 
Tone's  journal  we  find  constant  references  to  Thomas  Russell, 
whom  he  always  places  with  Thomas  Addis  Emmet  at  the  head 
of  his  list  of  friends.  Early  in  179 1,  Russell  proceeded  to  Belfast, 
to  join  the  64th  Regiment,  in  which  he  had  obtained  a  com- 
mission ;  before  leaving  Dublin  he  appears  to  have  become  a 
member  of  the  Society  of  United  Irishmen,  and  in  Belfast  he 
soon  won  the  friendship,  and  shared  the  councils  of  the  patri- 
otic men  who  were  laboring  for  Ireland  in  that  city. 

While  in  Belfast,  Russell  fell  into  pecuniary  embarrassments. 
His  generous  and  confiding  nature  induced  him  to  go  bail  for 
a  false  friend,  and  he  found  himself  one  morning  obliged  to 
meet  a  claim  for  ^200,  which  he  had  no  means  of  discharging, 
except  by  the  sale  of  his  Commission.  Russell  sold  out  and  re- 
tired to  Dungannon,  where  he  lived  for  some  time  on  the  resi- 
due of  the  money  thus  obtained,  and  during  this  period  he  was 
appointed  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  for  the  county  of  Tyrone. 
After  a  short  experience  of  '*  Justices'  justice"  in  the  North,  he 
retired  from  the  bench,  through  motives  alike  creditable  to  his 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


55 


head  and  heart.     "I  cannot  reconcile  it  to  my  conscience/'  he 

exclaimed  one  day,  "  to  sit  on  a  bench  where  the  practice  exists 
of  inquiring  what  religion  a  person  is  before  investigating  the 
charge  against  him."  Russell  returned,  after  taking  this  step, 
to  Belfast,  where  he  was  appointed  to  a  situation  in  the  public 
library  of  the  town,  and  where  he  became  a  regular  contributor 
to  the  organ  of  the  Ulster  patriots,  the  Northern  Star. 

In  1796  he  was  appointed  by  the  United  Irishmen  to  the 
supreme  military  command  in  the  county  Down,  a  post  for 
which  his  military  experience,  not  less  than  his  personal  in- 
fluence,  fitted  him,  but  his  political  career  was  soon  afterwards 
interrupted  by  his  arrest  on  the  26th  of  September,  1796. 
Russell  was  removed  to  Dublin,  and  lodged  in  Newgate  Prison; 
his  arrest  filled  the  great  heart  of  Tone,  who  was  then  toiling 
for  his  country  in  France,  w^ith  sorrow  and  dismay.  "■  It  is  im- 
possible," he  says,  in  his  journal,  '*  to  conceive  the  effect  this 
misfortune  has  on  my  mind.  If  we  are  not  in  Ireland  in  time 
to  extricate  him  he  is  lost,  for  the  government  will  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  ensure  his  condemnation.  Good  God!"  he  adds, 
"  if  Russell  and  Neilson  fall,  where  shall  I  find  two  others  to  re- 
place them  ?"  During  the  eventful  months  that  intervened 
between  the  date  of  his  arrest  and  the  19th  of  March,  1799, 
poor  Russell  remained  chafing  his  imprisoned  soul,  filled  with 
patriotic  passion  and  emotion,  in  his  prison  cell  in  Kilmainham. 
On  the  latter  date,  when  the  majority  of  his  associates  were 
dead,  an  their  followers  scattered  and  disheartened,  he  was 
transferred  to  Fort  George  in  Scotland,  where  he  spent  three 
years  more  in  captivity.  The  government  had  no  specific  charge 
against  him,  but  they  feared  his  influence,  and  distrusted  his  in- 
tentions, and  they  determined  to  keep  him  a  prisoner  while  a 
chance  remained  of  his  exerting  his  power  against  them.  No 
better  illustration  ot  Russell's  character  and  principles  could  be 
afforded  than  that  supplied  in  the  following  extract  from  one 
of  the  letters  written  by  him  during  his  incarceration  in  Fort 
George  : — *'  To  the  people  of  Ireland,"  he  writes,  addressing  an 
Irish  friend  and  sympathizer,  **  lam  responsible  for  my  actions : 


56 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK 


amidst  the  uncertainties  of  life  this  may  be  my  valedictory  ^et^ 
ter  ;  what  has  occasioned  the  failure  of  the  cause  is  useless  to 
speculate  on — Providence  orders  all  things  for  the  best.  I  am 
sure  the  people  will  never  abandon  the  cause  ;  I  am  equally  sure 
it  will  succeed.  I  trust  men  will  see,"  he  adds,  referring  to  the 
infidel  views  then  unhappily  prevalent,  "  that  the  only  true 
basis  of  liberty  is  morality,  and  the  only  stable  basis  of  mor« 
ality  is  religion." 

In  1802  the  government,  failing  to  establish  any  distinct 
charge  against  Russell,  set  him  at  liberty,  and  he  at  once  re- 
paired to  Paris,  where  he  met  Robert  Emmet,  who  was  then 
preparing  to  renew  the  effort  of  Fitzgerald  and  Wolfe  Tone. 
Time  had  not  changed,  nor  suffering  damped,  the  patriotic  im- 
pulses of  Thomas  Russell;  he  entered  heartily  into  the  plans  of 
young  Emmet,  and  when  the  latter  left  for  Ireland  in  Novem- 
ber, 1802,  to  prosecute  his  hazardous  enterprise,  it  was  with 
the  full  understanding  that  Russell  would  stand  by  his  side  in 
the  post  of  danger,  and  with  him  perish  or  succeed.  In  accor- 
dance with  this  arrangement,  Russell  followed  Robert  Emmet 
to  Dublin,  where  he  arrived  so  skilfully  disguised  that 
even  his  own  family  failed  to  recognize  him.  Emmet's  plans^ 
for  the  outbreak  in  Dublin  were  matured  when  Russell,  with  a 
a  trusty  companion,  was  dispatched  northwards  to  summon 
the  Ulster  men  to  action.  Buoyant  in  spirit,  and  filled  with 
high  expectation,  he  entered  on  his  mission,  but  he  returned 
to  Dublin  a  week  later,  prostrate  in  spirit,  and  with  a  broken 
heart.  One  of  his  first  acts  on  arriving  in  Belfast  was  to  issue 
a  proclamation,  in  which,  as  ''  General-in-Chief  of  the  Northern 
District,"  he  summoned  the  people  of  Ulster  to  action. 

The  North,  however,  refused  to  act.  It  was  the  old,  old 
story.  Belfast  resolved  on  waiting  *'  to  see  what  the  South 
would  do,"  and  the  South  waited  for  Belfast.  Disgusted  and 
disappointed, Russell  quitted  the  northern  capital,  and  proceeded 
to  Antrim,  where  at  least  he  thought  he  might  expect  to  find 
cordial  co-operation ;  but  fresh  disappointments  awaited  him, 
and  with  a  load  of  misery  at  his  heart,  such  as  he  had  never 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOOC. 


5; 


felt  before,  Russell  returned  to  Dublin,  where  he  lived  in  seclu« 
sioR,  until  arrested  by  Major  Sirr  and  his  myrmidons  on  the  9th 
of  Septembor,  1803.     A  reward  of  ^1,500  had  been  offered  for 
his  apprehension.     We  learn  on  good  authority  that  the  ruf- 
fianly town-major,  on  arresting  him,  seized  the  unfortunate  pa- 
triot  rudely  by  the  neck-cloth,  whereupon    Russell,  a  far  more 
powerful  man  than  his  assailant,  flung  him  aside,  and  drawing 
a  pistol    exclaimed — "  I  will  not    be  treated  with    indignity." 
Sirr  parleyed  for  awhile  ;  a  file  of  soldiers  was  meanwhile  sum- 
moned to  his  aid,  and  Russell  was  borne  off  in  irons,  a  prisoner, 
to  the  Castle.     While  undergoing  this   second  captivity,  a  bold 
attempt   was  made   by  his   friends   to  effect  his  liberation,  by 
bribing  one  of  the  gaolers  ;  the  plot,  however,  broke  down,  and 
Russell  never  breathed  the  air  of  freedom  again.     While  await- 
ing his  trial — that  trial  which  he  knew  could  have  but  one  ter- 
mination, the  death  of  a  felon — Russell  addressed  a  letter  to 
one  of  his  friends  outside,  in  which  the  following  noble  passage, 
the  fittest  epitaph  to  be  engraved  on  his  tombstone,  occurs: — 
''I  mean  to  make  my  trial,"  he  writes,  ''and  the  last  of  my  lifcj 
if  it  is  to  close  now,  as    serviceable  to  the  cause  of  liberty  as  I 
can.     /  trust  my  coiuitrynien  will  ever  adJiere  to  it;  I   know   it 
will  soon  prosper.     When  the  country  is  free,"  he  adds — that  it 
would  be  free  he  never  learned  to  doubt — "  I  beg  they  may  lay 
my  remains  with   my  father   in  a  private  manner,  and   pay  the 
few  debts  I  owe.     I  have  only  to  beg  of  my  countrymen  to  re- 
member  that  the  cause  of  liberty  is  the  cause  of  virtue,  ivhich^ 
T  trust,  they  zvill  7iever  abandon.     May  God  bless  and  prosper 
them,  and  when  power  comes  into  their  hands,  I  entreat  them 
to  use   it   with  moderation.     May  God   and  the  Saviour  bless 
them  all." 

Russell  was  taken  to  Downpatrick,  escorted  by  a  strong  force 
of  cavalry,  where  he  was  lodged  in  the  governor's  rooms,  pre- 
paratory to  being  tried  in  that  town  by  a  Special  Commission. 
While  in  prison  in  Downpatrick  he  addressed  a  letter  to  Miss 
M'Cracken,  a  sister  of  Henry  Joy  M'Crackcn,  one  of  the  insur- 
gent leaders  of  1798,  in  which  he  speaks  as  follows;  **  Humanly 


58 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


speaking,  I  expect  to  be  found  guilty,  and  immediately  ex& 
cuted.  As  this  may  be  my  last  letter,  I  shall  only  say  that  I 
did  my  best  for  my  country  and  for  mankind.  I  have  no  wish 
to  die,  but  far  from  regretting  its  loss  in  such  a  cause,  had  I  t 
thousand  lives  I  would  willingly  risk  or  lose  them  in  it.  Be  as. 
sured,  liberty  will  in  the  midst  of  those  storms  be  established, 
and  God  will  wipe  the  tears  from  all  eyes." 

The  sad  anticipations  expressed  by  Russell  were  but  too  fully 
borne  out.     There  was  short  shrift  in  those  days  for  Irishmen 
accused  of  treason,  and  the  verdict  of  guilty,  which  he  looked 
forward  to  with  so  much  resignation,  was  delivered  before  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun  which  rose  on  the  morning  of  the  trial  had 
faded  in  the  gloaming.     It   was  sworn    that  he  had  attended 
treasonable  meetings,  and  distributed  green  uniform^ ;  that  he 
asked  those  who  attended  them,  ''  if  they  did  not  desire  to  get 
rid  of  the  Sassanaghs ;"  that  he  spoke  of  30,000  stands  of  arms 
from  France,  but  said  if  France  should  fail  them,  ''  forks,  spades, 
shovels,  and  pickaxes"  would  serve  that  purpose.     It  was  useless 
to  struggle  against  such  testimony,  palpably  false,  and  distorted 
as  it  was  in  some  parts,  and  Russell  decided  on  cutting  short  the 
proceedings.     ''  I  shall  not   trouble   my  lawyers,"  he  said,  **  to 
make  any  statement  in  my  case.     There  are  but  three  possible 
modes  of  defence — firstly,  by  calling  witnesses  to  prove  the  inno- 
cence of  my  conduct ;  secondly,  by  calling  them  to  impeach  the 
credit  of  opposite  witnesses,  or  by  proving  an  alibi.     As  I  can 
resort  to  none  of  these  modes   of  defence  without  involving 
others,  I  consider  myself   precluded    from   any."     Previous  to 
the  Judge's  charge,  the  prisoner  asked — ''  If  it  was  not  permit- 
ted to  persons  in  his  situation  to  say  a  few  words,  as  he  wished 
to  give  his  valedictory  advice  to  his  countrymen  in  as  concise 
a  manner  as   possible,  being  well  convinced  how  speedy  the 
transition  was  from  that  vestibule  of  the  grave  to  the  scaffold." 
He  was  told  in  reply,  ''  that  he  would  have  an  opportunity  of 
expressing  himself,"  and  when  the  time  did  come,  Russell  ad- 
vanced to  the  front  of  the  dock,  and  spoke  in  a  clear,  firn^  tone 
of  voice,  as  follows : — 


SFEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK.  59 

^  Before  I  adcfrcss  myself  to  this  audience,  I  return  my  sincere  thanks 
to  my  learned  counsel  for  the  exertions  they  have  made,  in  which  they 
displayed  so  much  talent.  I  return  my  thanks  to  the  gentlemen  on 
th«  part  of  the  crown,  for  the  accommodation  and  indulgence  I  have 
received  during  my  confinement.  I  return  my  thanks  to  the  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  for  the  patient  investigation  they  have  afforded  my  case ; 
and  I  return  my  thnnks  to  the  court,  for  the  attention  and  politeness 
they  have  shown  me  during  my  trial.  As  to  my  political  sentiments, 
I  shall,  in  as  brief  a  manner  as  possible  ^for  I  do  not  wish  to  engross 
the  time  of  the  court),  say  a  few  words.  I  look  back  to  the  last  thirteen 
years  of  my  life,  the  period  with  which  I  have  interfered  with  the 
transactions  of  Ireland,  with  entire  satisfaction  ;  though  for  my  share 
in  them  I  am  now  about  to  die — the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  having,  by 
their  verdict,  put  the  seal  of  truth  on  the  evidence  against  me.  Whether, 
at  this  time,  and  the  country  being  situated  as  it  is,  it  be  safe  to  inflict 
the  punishment  of  death  upon  me  for  the  offence  I  am  charged  with, 
I  leave  to  the  gentlemen  who  conduct  the  prosecution.  My  death, 
perhaps,  may  be  useful  in  deterring  others  from  following  my  example. 
It  may  serve,  on  the  other  hand,  as  a  memorial  to  others,  and  on  trying 
occasions  it  may  inspire  them  with  courage.  I  can  now  say,  as  far  as 
my  judgment  enabled  me,  I  acted  for  the  good  of  my  country  and  of 
the  world.  It  may  be  presumptuous  for  me  to  deliver  my  opinions 
here  as  a  statesman,  but  as  the  government  have  singled  me  out  as  a 
leader,  and  given  me  the  appellation  of  "  General,"  I  am  in  some  degree 
entitled  to  do  so.  To  me  it  is  plain  that  all  things  are  verging  towards 
a  change,  when  all  shall  be  of  one  opinion.  In  ancient  times,  we  read 
of  great  empires  having  their  rise  and  their  fall,  and  yet  do  the  old 
governments  proceed  as  if  all  were  immutable.  From  the  time  I  could 
observe  and  reflect,  I  perceived  that  there  were  two  kinds  of  laws^the 
laws  of  the  state,  and  the  laws  of  God — frequently  clashing  with  each 
other  ;  by  the  latter  kind,  I  have  always  endeavored  to  regulate  my 
conduct  ;  but  that  laws  of  the  former  kind  do  exist  in  Ireland  I  believe 
no  one  who  hears  me  can  deny.  That  such  laws  have  existed  in  former 
times,  many  and  various  examples  clearly  evince.  The  Saviour  of  the 
world  suffered  by  the  Roman  laws — by  the  same  laws  His  Apostles 
were  put  to  the  torture,  and  deprived  of  their  lives  in  His  cause.  By 
my  conduct  I  do  not  consider  that  I  have  incurred  any  moral  guilt. 
I  have  committed  no  moral  evil,  I  do  not  want  the  many  and  bright 
examples  of  those  gone  before  me  ;  but  did  I  want  this  encouragement, 
the  recent  example  of  a  youthful  hero — a  martyr  in  the  cause  of  liberty 
— who  has  just  died  for  his  country,  would  inspire  me.  I  have  descended 
into  the  vale  of  manhood.  I  have  learned  to  estimate  the  reality  and 
delusions  of  this  world  ;  he  was  surrounded  by  everything  which  could 
endear  this  world  to  him — in  the  bloom  of  youth,  with  fond  attachments, 
and  with  all  the  fascinating  charms  of  health  and  innocence  ;  to  his 
death  I  look  back  even  in  this  moment  with  rapture.   I  have  travelled 


Co  SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK, 

much,  and  seen  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  I  think  the  Irish  are 
the  most  virtuous  nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth — they  are  a  good 
and  brave  people,  and  had  I  a  thousand  lives  I  would  yield  them  in 
their  service.  If  it  be  the  will  of  God  that  I  suffer  for  that  with  which 
I  stand  charged,!  am  perfectly  resigned  to  His  holy  will  and  dispensation, 
I  do  not  wish  to  trespass  much  more  on  the  time  of  those  that  heai 
me,  and  did  I  do  so  an  indisposition  which  has  seized  on  me  since  I 
came  into  court  would  prevent  my  purpose.  Before  I  depart  from 
this  for  a  better  world  I  wish  to  address  myself  to  the  landed  aristocracy 
of  this  country.  The  word  "aristocracy"  I  do  not  mean  to  use  as  an 
insulting  epithet,  but  in  the  common  sense  of  the  expression. 

''  Perhaps,   as   my  voice  may  now  be  considered  as  a  voice  crying 
^rom  the  grave,  what  I  now  say  may  have  some  weight.     I  see  around 
me  many,   who   during   the  last  years  of  my  life,  have  disseminated 
principles  for  which  I  am  now  to  die.     Those  gentlemen,   who  have 
all  the  wealth  and  the  power  of  the  country  in   their  hands,  I  strongly 
advise,    and   earnestly   exhort,  to  pay  attention  to   the  poor — by   the 
poor  I  mean  the  laboring  class  of  the  community,  their  tenantry  and 
dependants.     I  advise  them  for  their  good  to  look  into  their  gjrievances, 
to   sympathize  in  their  distress,  and  to  spread  comfort  and   happiness 
around   their  dwellings.     It  might  be  that  they  may  not  hold  theii 
power  long,  but  at  all  events  to  attend  to  the  wants  and  distresses   of 
the  poor  is  their  truest  interest.      If  they  hold  their  power,  they  wiU 
thits  have  friends  around  them  ;  if  they  lose  it,  their  fall  will  be  gentle, 
and  I  am  sure  unless  they  act  thus  they  can  never  be  happy.     1  shall 
now  appeal   to  the  right  honorable  gentleman  in  whose  hands  the 
lives  of  the  other  prisoners  are,  and   entreat  that  he  will  rest  satisfied 
with  my  death,  and  let  that  atone  for  those  errors  into  which  I  may 
have  been  supposed  to  have  deluded   others.     I  trust  the  gentleman 
will  restore  them  to  their  families  and  friends.     If  he  shall  do  so,  I 
can  assure  him  that  the  breeze  which  conveys  to  him  the  prayers  and 
blessings   of  their  wives  and  children  will  be  more  grateful   than  that 
which  may  be  tainted  with  the  stench  of  putrid  corpses,  or   carrying 
with  it  the  cries  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan.     Standing  as  I   do  in 
the  presence  of  God  and  of  man,  I  entreat  him  to  let  my  life  atone  for 
the  faults  of  all,  and  that  my  blood  alone  may  flow. 

"  If  I  am  then  to  die,  I  have  therefore  two  requests  to  make.  The 
first  is,  that  as  I  have  been  engaged  in  a  work  possibly  of  some  advantage 
to  the  world,  I  may  be  indulged  with  three  days  for  its  completion  ; 
secondly,  that  as  there  are  those  ties  which  even  death  cannot  sever, 
and  as  there  are  those  who  may  have  some  regard  for  what  will  remain 
of  me  after  death,  I  request  that  my  remains,  disfigured  as  tney  will  be, 
may  be  delivered  after  the  execution  of  the  sentence  to  those  dear 
friends,  that  they  may  be  conveyed  to  the  ground  where  my  parents 
are  laid,  and  where  those  faithful  few  may  have  a  consecrated  spot 
over  which  they  may  be  permitted  to  grieve.     I  have  now  to  declare, 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCR.  ^i 

ivhen  about  to  pass  into  the  presence  of  Almighty  God,  that  I  feel  no 
enmity  in  my  mind  to  any  being,  none  to  those  who  have  borne  testimony 
against  me,  and  none  to  the  jury  who  have  pronounced  the  verdict  of 
my  death." 

The  last  request  of  Russell  was  refused,  and  he  was  executed 
twelve  hours  after  the  conclusion  of  the  triaL  At  noon,  on  the 
2 1  St  of  October,  1803,  he  was  borne  pinioned  to  the  place  of 
execution.  Eleven  regiments  of  soldiers  were  concentrated  in 
the  town  to  overawe  the  people  and  defeat  any  attempt  at 
rescue;  yet  even  with  this  force  at  their  back,  the  authorities 
were  far  from  feeling-  secure.  The  interval  between  the  trial 
and  execution  w?s  so  short  that  no  preparation  could  be  made 
for  the  erection  of  a  scaffold,  except  the  placing  of  some  barrels 
under  the  gateway  of  the  main  entrance  to  the  prison,  with 
planks  placed  upon  them  as  a  platform,  and  others  sloping  uo 
from  the  ground,  by  which  it  was  ascended.  On  the  ground 
hard  by,  were  placed  a  sack  of  saw^dust,  an  axe,  a  block,  and  a 
knife.  After  ascending  the  scaffold,  Russell  gazed  forward 
through  the  archway — towards  the  people,  whose  white  faces 
could  be  seen  glistening  outside,  and  again  expressed  his  for- 
giveness of  his  persecutors.  His  manner*,  we  are  told,  was  per- 
fectly calm,  and  he  died  without  a  struggle. 

A  purer  soul,  a  more  blamless  spirit,  than  Thomas  Russell, 
never  sunk  on  the  battle-field  of  freedom.  Fixed  in  principles, 
and  resolute  in  danger,  he  was  nevertheless  gentle,  courteous, 
unobstrusive,  and  humane ;  with  all  the  modesty  and  unaf- 
fectedness  of  childhood,  he  united  the  zeal  of  a  martyr  and  the 
courage  of  a  hero.  To  the  cause  of  his  country  he  devoted 
all  his  energies  and  all  his  will  ;  and  when  he  failed  to  render 
it  prosperous  in  life,  he  illumined  it  by  his  devotion  and  stead- 
fastness in  death.  The  noble  speech  given  above,  and  the  pas- 
sages from  his  letters  which  we  have  quoted,  are  sufficient  in 
themselves  to  show  how  chivalrous  was  the  spirit,  how  noble 
the  motives  of  Thomas  Russell.  The  predictions  which  he  ut- 
tered with  so  much  confidence  have  not  indeed  been  fulfiled,  and 
the  success  which  he  looked  forward  to  so  hopefully  has  never 


^2  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIC. 

been  won.  But  his  advice,  so  often  repeated  in  his  letters,  is 
still  adhered  to  ;  his  countrymen  have  not  yet  learned  to  aban- 
don the  cause  in  which  he  suffered,  and  they  still  cherish  the 
conviction  which  he  so  touchingly  expressed — "  that  liberty 
will,  in  the  midst  of  these  storms  be  established,  and  that  God 
will  yet  wipe  off  the  tears  of  the  Irish  nation." 

Russell  rests  in  the  churchyard  of  the  Protestant  church  of 
Downpatrick.  A  plain  slab  marks  the  spot  where  ne  is  laid. 
and  there  is  on  it  this  single  line — 

"  THE  GRAVE  OF  RUSSELL." 

We  have  now  closed  our  reference  to  the  portion  of  Irish  his- 
tory comprised  within  the  years  1798  and  1803,  and  as  far  as  con- 
cerns the  men  who  suffered  for  Ireland  in  those  disastrous  days, 
our  *'  Speeches  from  the  dock"  are  concluded.  We  leave  be- 
hind us  the  struggle  of  1798,  and  the  men  who  organized  it  ;  we 
turn  from  the  records  of  a  period  reeking  with  the  gore  of  Ire- 
land's truest  sons,  and  echoing  with  the  cries  and  curses  of  the 
innocent  and  oppressed ;  we  pass  without  notice  the  butcheries 
and  outrages  that  filled  the  land,  while  our  countrymen  were 
being  sabred  into  submission  ;  and  we  leave  behind  us,  too, 
the  short-lived  insurrection  of  1803,  ^^^  ^^^  chivalrous  young 
patriot  who  perished  with  it.  We  turn  to  more  recent  events, 
less  appalling  in  their  general  aspect,  but  not  less  impor- 
tant in  their  consequences,  or  less  interesting  to  the  present 
generation,  and  take  up  the  next  link  in  the  unbroken  chain  of 
protests  against  British  rule  in  Ireland  with  the  lives  and  the 
fortunes  of  the  patriots  of  1848.  How  faithfully  the  principles 
of  freedom  have  been  handed  down — how  nobly  the  men  of  our 
own  times  have  imitated  the  patriots  of  the  past — how  thor- 
oughly the  sentimeiit-  expressed  from  the  Green  Street  dock  nine- 
teen years  ago  coincide  with  the  declarations  of  Tone,  of  Em- 
met, and  of  Russell — our  readers  will  shortly  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  judging.  They  will  see  how  all  the  sufferings  and  all 
the  calann.'^'es  that  darkened  the  path  of  the  martyrs  of  '98 
were  insufficient  to  deter  others,  as  gifted,  as  earnest,  and  as 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK,  63 

chivalrous  as  they,  from  following  in  their  footsteps  ;  and  how 
unquenchable  and  unending,  as  the  altar  light  of  the  fire-wor- 
shipper, the  generous  glow  of  patriotic  enthusiasm  was  trans- 
mitted through  generations,  unaffected  by  the  torrents  of  blood 
in  which  it  was  sought  to  extinguish  it. 

The  events  of  our  own  generation — the  acts  of  contemporary 
patriots — now  claim  our  attention  ;  but  we  are  reluctant  as  yet 
to  turn  over  the  page,  and  drop  the  curtain  on  the  scenes  with 
which  we  have  hitherto  been  dealing,  and  which  we  feel  we 
have  inadequately  described.  We  have  spoken  of  the  men 
whose  speeches  from  the  dock  are  on  record,  but  we  still  lin- 
ger over  the  history  of  the  events  in  which  they  shared,  and 
of  the  men  who  were  associated  with  them  in  their  endeavors. 
The  patriots  whose  careers  we  have  glanced  at  are  but  a  few 
out  of  the  number  of  Irishmen  who  suffered  during  the  same 
period,  and  in  the  same  cause,  and  whose  actions  recommend 
them  to  the  admiration  and  esteem  of  posterity.  Confining 
ourselves  strictly  to  those  whose  speeches  after  conviction 
have  reached  us,  the  list  could  not  well  be  extended  ;  but  there 
are  many  who  acted  as  brave  a  part,  and  whose  memories  are 
inseparable  from  the  history  of  the  period.  We  should  have 
desired  to  speak,  were  the  scope  of  our  labors  more  extended, 
of  the  brave  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  the  gallant  and  the  true, 
who  sacrificed  his  position,  his  prospects,  and  his  life,  for  the 
good  old  cause,  and  whose  arrest  and  death  contributed  more 
largely,  perhaps,  than  any  other  cause  that  could  be  assigned 
to  the  failure  of  the  insurrection  of  1798.  Descended  from  an 
old  and  noble  family,  possessing  in  a  remarkable  degree  all  the 
attributes  and  embellishments  of  a  popular  leader,  young  and 
spirited,  eloquent  and  wealthy,  ardent,  generous,  and  brave,  of 
good  address,  and  fine  physical  proportions,  it  Is  not  surprising 
that  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  became  the  idol  of  the  patriot 
party,  and  was  appointed  by  them  to  a  leading  position  ^i  the 
organization.  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  was  born  in  October, 
1763  ;  being  the  fifth  son  of  James,  Duke  of  Leinster,  the  twen- 
tieth Earl  of  Kildare.     He  grew  up  to  manhood,  as  a  recent 


54  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

writer  has  observed,  when  the  drums  of  the  Volunteers  were 
pealing  their  marches  of  victory ;  and  under  the  stirring  events 
of  the  period  his  soul  burst  through  the  shackles  that  had  long 
bound  down  the  Irish  aristocracy  in  servile  dependence.     In 
his  early  years  he  served  in  the  American  War  of  Independ- 
ence on  the  side  of  despotism  and  oppression — a  circumstance 
v/hich  in  after  years  caused  him  poignant   sorrow.     He  joined 
the  United  Irishmen  about  the  time  that  Thomas  Addis  Em- 
met entered  their  ranks,  and  the  young  nobleman  threw  him- 
self into  the  movement  with  all  the  ardor  and  energy  of  his 
nature.     He  was  appointed  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  National 
forces  in  the  south,  and  labored  with  indefatigable  zeal  in  per. 
fecting  the  plans  for  the  outbreak  on  the  23rd  of  May,     The 
story  of  his  arrest  and  capture  is  too  well  known  to  need  repe- 
tition.    Treachery  dogged  the  steps  of  the  young  patriot,  and 
after  lying  for  some  weeks  in  concealment,  he  was  arrest^^d  on 
the  19th  day  of  May,  1798,  two  months  after  his  associates  in 
the  direction   of  the   movement   had    been   arrested  at  Oliver 
Bond's.     His  gallant  struggle  with  his   captors,  fighting  like  a 
lion  at  bay,  against  the  miscreants  who  assailed  him  ;  his  assas- 
sination, his  imprisonment,  and  his  death,  are  events  to  which 
the  minds  of  the  Irish  nationalists  perpetually  recur,  and  which, 
celebrated  in  song  and  story,  are  told  with  sympathizing  regret 
wherever  a  group  of  Irish  blood  are  gathered  around  the  hearth- 
stone.    His  genius,  his  talents,  and  his  influence,  his  unswerv- 
ing attachment  to  his  country,  and  his  melancholy  end,  cast  an 
air  of  romance  around  his  history  ;  and  the  last  ray  of  grati- 
tude  must  fade  fromi  the  Irish  heart  before  the  name  of  the 
martyred    patriot,  v/ho    sleeps  in    the    vaults  of    St.  Werburg, 
will  be  forgotten  in  the  land  of  his  birth. 

In  less  than  a  fortnight  after  Lord  Edward  expired  in  New 
gate,  another  Irish  rebel,  distinguished  by  his  talents,  his  fidelity, 
and  his  position,  expiated  with  his  life  the  crime  of  "lov- 
ing his  country  above  his  king."  It  is  hard  to  mention  Thomas 
Russell,  and  ignore  H^nry  Joy  M'Cracken — it  is  hard  to  speak 
of  the  insurrection  of  '98  and  forget   the  gallant  young  Irish- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  65 

man  who  commanded  at  the  battle  of  Antrim,  and  who  per- 
ished a  few  weeks  subsequently,  in  the  bloom  of  his  manhood, 
on  the  scaffold  in  Belfast.  Henry  Joy  M'Cracken  was  one  of 
the  first  members  of  the  Society  of  United  Irishmen,  and  he 
was  one  of  the  best.  He  was  arrested,  owing  to  private  infor. 
mation  received  by  the  government,  on  the  loth  of  October, 
1796 — three  weeks  after  Russell,  his  friend  and  confidant,  was 
flung  into  prison — and  lodged  in  Newgate  Jail,  where  he  re- 
mained  until  the  8th  of  September  in  the  following  year.  He 
was  then  liberated  on  bail,  and  immediately,  on  regaining  his 
liberty-  returned  to  Belfast,  still  bent  on  accomplishing  at  all 
hazards  the  liberation  of  his  country.  Previous  to  the  out- 
break in  May,  '98,  he  had  frequent  interviews  with  the  patriot 
leaders  in  Dublin,  and  M'Cracken  was  appointed  to  the  com. 
mand  of  the  insurgent  forces  in  Antrim.  Filled  with  impa. 
tience  and  patriotic  ardor,  he  heard  of  the  stirring  events  that 
followed  the  arrest  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald ,  he  concentra- 
ted all  his  energies  in  preparing  the  Northern  patriots  for  ac- 
tion, but  circumstances  uciayed  the  outbreak  in  that  quarter, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  6th  of  June,  1798,  that  M'Cracken  had 
peifected  his  arrangements  for  taking  the  field,  and  issued  the 
following  brief  proclamation,  "■  dated  the  first  year  of  liberty, 
6th  of  June,  1798,"  address,  d  to  the  Army  of  Ulster: — 

"To-morrow  we  march  on  Antrim.  Drive  the  garrison  of 
Randalstown  before  you,  and  hasten  to  form  a  junction  with 
your  Commander-in-chief." 

Twenty-one  thousand  insurgents  were  to  have  rallied  at  the 
call  of  M'Cracken,  but  not  more  than  seven  thousand  respond- 
ed to  the  summons.  Even  this  number,  however,  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  strike  a  successful  blow,  which  would  have 
filled  the  hearts  of  the  gallant  Wexford  men,  then  in  arms,  with 
exultation,  and  effected  incalculable  results  on  the  fate  of  Ire- 
land, had  not  the  curse  of  the  Irish  cause,  treachery  and  be- 
trayal, again  come  to  the  aid  of  its  enemies.  Hardly  had  the 
plans  for  the  attack  on  Antrim  been  perfected,  when  the  secrets 
of  the  conspirators  were  revealed  to  General  Nugent,  who  com« 


56  SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 

manded  the  British  troops  In  the  North,  and  the  defeat  of  the 
insurgents  was   thus  secured.     M'Cracken's  forces  marched  to 
the    attack    on    Antrim    with   great  regularity,   chorusing   the 
'*  Marseillaise    Hymn"    as    they    charged    through    the    town. 
Their  success  at  first  seemed  complete,  but  the  English  general, 
acting  on  the  information  wliich  had  treacherously  been  sup- 
plied him,  had  taken  effective  means  to  disconcert  and  defeat 
them.     Suddenly,  and  as  it  seemed,  in  the  flush  of  victory,  the 
insurgents  found  themselves   exposed  to  a  galling   fire  from,   a 
force  posted  at  either  end  of  the  town  ;  a   gallant  resistance 
was  offered,  but  it  was  vain.      The  insurgents  fled  from  the  fatal 
spot,  leaving  500  of  their  dead  and  dying  behind  them,  and  at 
nightfall  Henry  Joy  M'Cracken  found  himself  a  fugitive  and  a 
ruined  man.     For  some  weeks  he  managed  to  baffle  the  blood- 
hounds on  his  track,  but  he  was  ultimately    arrested  and  tried 
by  court-martial  in   Belfast,  on  the    17th   July,  1798.     On   the 
evening  of  the  same  day  he  was  executed.     We  have  it  on  the 
best  authority  that  he  bore  his  fate  with    calmness,  resolution, 
and  resignation.     It   is  not  his   fault  that  a  "Speech   from  the 
dock"  under  his  name   is  not  amongst   our  present   collection. 
He  had  actually  prepared  one,  but  his  brutal  judges  would  not 
listen  to  the  patriot's  exculpation.     He    was  hung,  amidst  the 
sobs  and   tears   of  the  populace,   in  front    of  the  old  market- 
place of  Belfast,  and  his   remains  were    interred  in   the  grave- 
yard now  covered  by  St.  George's  Protestant  church. 

Later  still  in  the  same  year,  two  gallant  young  officers  of 
Irish  blood  shared  the  fate  of  Russell  and  M'Cracken.  They 
sailed  with  Humbert  from  Rochelle  ;  they  fought  at  Castlebar 
and  Ballinamuck;  and  when  the  swords  of  their  French  allies 
were  sheathed,  they  passed  into  the  power  of  their  foes.  Mat- 
thew Tone  was  one  of  them ;  the  other  was  Bartholomew 
Teeling.  The  latter  filled  the  rank  of  Etat-major  in  the  French 
army;  and  a  letter  from  his  commanding  officer,  General  Hum- 
bert, was  read  al  his  trial,  in  which  the  highest  praise  was  given 
to  the  young  officer  for  the  humane  exertions  which  he  made 
throughout  his  last  brief  campaign  in  the  interest  of   mercyc 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK 


67 


^  His  hand,"  he  said,  ''  was  ever  raised  to  stay  the  useless  effu- 
sion of  blood,  and  his  protection  was  afforded  to  the  prostrate 
and  defenceless."  But  his  military  judges  paid  little  heed  to 
those  extenuating  circumstances,  and  Teeling  was  condemned 
to  die  on  the  day  of  his  trial.  He  perished  on  the  24th  Sep- 
tember, 1798,  being  then  in  his  twenty-fourth  year.  He 
marched  with  a  proud  step  to  the  place  of  execution  on  Arbor 
Hill,  Dublin,  and  he  died,  as  a  soldier  might,  with  unshaken 
firmness  and  unquailing  mien.  No  lettered  slab  marks  the 
place  of  his  interment ;  and  his  bones  remain  in  unhallowed  and 
unconsecrated  ground.  Hardly  had  his  headless  body  ceased 
to  palpitate,  when  it  was  flung  into  a  hole  at  the  rear  of  the 
Royal  Barracks.  A  few  days  later  the  same  unhonored  spot  re- 
ceived the  mortal  remains  of  Matthew  Tone.  "  He  had  a  more 
enthusiastic  nature  than  any  of  us,"  writes  his  brother,  Theo- 
bald Wolfe  Tone,  ""  and  he  was  a  sincere  republican,  capa- 
ble of  sacrificing  everything  for  his  principles."  His  execution 
was  conducted  with  infamous  cruelty  and  brutality,  and  the 
life-blood  was  still  gushing  from  his  body  when  it  was  flung  into 
*' the  Croppy's  Hole."  "The  day  will  come,"  says  Dr.  Madden, 
*'when  that  desecrated  spot  will  be  hallowed  ground — conse- 
crated by  religion — trod  lightly  by  pensive  patriotism — and  dec- 
orated by  funeral  trophies  in  honor  of  the  dead  whose  bones 
lie  there  in  graves  that  are  now  neglected  and  unhonored." 

There  are  others  of  the  patriot  leaders  who  died  in  exile, 
far  away  from  the  land  for  which  they  suffered,  and  whose 
graves  were  dug  on  alien  shores  by  the  heedless  hands  of  the 
stranger.  This  was  the  fate  of  Addis  Emmet,  of  Neilson,  and 
of  M'Nevin.  In  Ireland  they  were  foremost  and  most  trusted 
amongst  the  gifted  and  brilliant  throng  that  directed  the  labors 
and  shaped  the  purposes  of  the  United  Irishmen.  They  sur- 
vived the  reign  of  terror  that  swallowed  up  the  majority  of 
their  compatriots,  and,  when  milder  councils  began  to  prevail, 
they  were  permitted  to  go  forth  from  the  dungeon  which 
confined  them,  into  banishment.  The  vision  of  Irish  freedom 
was  not  permitted   to   dawn  upon   them  in  life ;    far  beyond 


\- 


(58  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

the  sandy  slopes  washed  by  the  Western  Atlantic,  they  watched 
the  fortunes  of  the  old  land  with  hopeless  but  enduring 
love.  Their  talents,  their  virtues,  and  their  patriotism 
were  not  unappreciated  by  the  people  amongst  whom  they 
spent  their  closing  years  of  life.  In  the  busiest  thoroughfare 
of  the  greatest  city  of  America  there  towers  over  the  heads  of 
the  by-passers  the  monument  of  marble  which  grateful  hands 
have  raised  to  the  memory  of  Addis  Emmet.  In  the  centre  of 
Western  civilization,  the  home  of  republican  liberty,  the 
stranger  reads  in  glowing  words,  of  the  virtues  and  the  fame  of 
the  brother  of  Robert  Emmet,  sculptured  on  the  noble  pillar 
erected  in  Broadway,  New  York,  to  his  memory.  Nor  was  he 
the  only  one  of  his  party  to  whom  such  an  honor  was  accorded. 
A  stone-throw  from  the  spot  where  the  Emmet  monument 
stands,  a  memorial  not  less  commanding  in  its  proportions  and 
appearance,  was  erected  to  William  James  M'Nevin;  and  the 
American  citizen,  as  he  passes  through  the  spacious  streets  of 
that  city,  which  the  genius  of  liberty  has  rendered  prosper- 
ous and  great,  gazes  proudly  on  those  stately  monuments, 
which  tell  him  that  the  devotion  to  freedom  which  England 
punished  and  proscribed,  found  in  his  own  land  the  recogni- 
tion which  it  merited  from  the  gallant  and  the  free.* 


*  The  inscriptions  on  the  Emmet  monument  are  in  three  languageSr-»Irish,  Latin,  and 
Enghsh.     The  Irish  inscription  consists  of  the  following  lines  ;— 

Do  mhiannaich  so  ardmtdh 

Cum  tir  a  breith 
Do  thug  se  clue  a's  fuair  se  molcidb 

An  deig  a  bais. 

The  following  is  the  English  inscription  : 

In  Memory  oj 

THOMAS  ADDIS  EMMET. 
Who  exemplified  in  his  conduct, 

And  adorned  by  his  integrity, 

The  policy  and  principles  of  the 

UNITED  IRISHMEN— 

"  To  forward  a  brotherhood  of  affection, 

•*A  community  of  rights,  an  identity  of  interests,  and  a  union  of  poWBf 

"Among  Irishmen  of  ever)-  religious  persuasion, 

*'As  the  only  means  of  Ireland's  chief  good, 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


JOHN  MITCHEL. 


69 


UBSEQUENT  to  the  melancholy  tragedy  of  1803,  ^ 
period  of  indescribable  depression  was  experienced  in 
Ireland.  Defeat,  disaster,  ruin,  had  fallen  upon  the 
national  cause ;  the  power  on  whose  friendly  aid  so 
much  reliance  had  been  placed  was  humbled,  and  Eng.- 
land  stood  before  the  world  in  the  full  blaze  of  tri- 
umph and  glory.  Her  fleet  was  undisputed  mistress  of  the 
ocean  having  swept  it  of  all  hostile  shipping,  and  left  to  the 
enemy  little  more  than  the  small  craft  that  sheltered  in  narrow 
creeks  and  under  the  guns  of  well-defended  harbors.  Her  army, 
if  not  numerically  large,  had  proved  its  valor  on  many  a  well- 
fought  field,  and  shown  that  it  knew  how  to  bring  victory  to 
light  upon  its  standards ;  and,  what  was  not  less  a  matter  of 
wonder  to  others,  and  of  pride  to  herself,  the  abundance  of  her 
wealth  and  the  extent  of  her  resources  were  shown  to  be  with- 


"An  impartial  and  adequate  representation 

"In  an  Irish  Parliament," 

For  this  (mysterious  fate  of  virtue)  exiled  from  his  native  land, 

In  America,  the  land  of  Freedom, 

He  found  a  second  country, 

Which  paid  his  love  by  reverencing  his  genius. 

Learned  in  our  laws,  and  in  the  laws  of  Europe, 

In  the  literature  of  our  times,  and  in  that  of  antiquity, 

All  knowledge  seemed  subject  to  his  use. 

An  orator  of  the  first  order,  clear,  copious,  fervid, 

Alike  powerful  to  kindle  the  imagination,  touch  the  affections^ 

And  sway  the  reason  and  will. 

Simple  in  his  tastes,  unassuming  in  his  manners, 

Frank,  generous,  kind-hearted,  and  honorable, 

'His  private  life  was  beautiful, 

As  his  public  course  was  brilliant. 

Anxious  to  perpetuate 

The  name  and  example  of  such  a  man, 

Alike  illustrious  by  his  genius,  his  virtues,  and  his  fate; 

Consecrated  to  their  affections  by  his  sacrifices,  his  perilSy 

And  the  deeper  calamities  of  his  kindred, 

In  A  Just  and  Holy  Cause; 

His  sympathizing  countrymen 

Erected  this  Monument  and  Cenotaph. 


70 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


out  a  parallel  In  the  world.  Napoleon  was  an  exile  on  the  rock 
of  St.  Helena;  the  "  Holy  Alliance" — as  the  European  sover- 
eigns blasphemously  designated  themseh^es — were  lording  it 
over  the  souls  and  bodies  of  men  by  "  right  divine ;"  the  free 
and  noble  principles  in  which  the  French  Revolution  had  its 
origin  were  now  sunk  out  of  sight,  covered  with  the  infamy  of 
the  Reign  of  Terror  and  the  responsibility  of  the  series  of  deso- 
lating wars  which  had  followed  it,  and  no  man  dared  to  speak 
for  them.  Those  were  dark  days  for  Ireland.  Her  parliament 
was  gone,  and  in  the  blighting  shade  of  the  provincialism  to 
which  she  was  reduced,  genius  and  courage  seemed  to  have 
died  out  from  the  land.  Thousands  of  her  bravest  and  most 
devoted  children  had  perished  in  her  cause — some  on  the  scaf- 
fold, and  others  on  the  field  of  battle — and  many  whose  pres- 
ence at  home  would  have  been  invaluable  to  her  were  obliged 
to  seek  safety  in  exile.  So  Erin,  the  crownless  queen,  sat  in 
the  dust,  with  fetters  on  her  limbs,  her  broken  sword  fallen 
from  her  hand,  and  with  mournful  memories  lying  heavy  on  her 
heart.  The  feelings  of  disappointment  and  grief  then  rankling 
in  every  Irish  breast  are  well  mirrored  in  that  plaintive  song  of 
our  national  poet,  which  opens  with  these  tristful  lines : — 

'*  *Tis  gone,  and  forever,  the  light  we  saw  breaking. 

Like  heaven's  first  dawn  o'er  the  sleep  of  the  dead, 
When  man,  from  the  slumber  of  ages  awaking, 

Looked  upward  and  blessed  the  pure  ray  ere  it  fled. 
*Tis  gone,  and  the  gleams  it  has  left  of  its  burning, 

But  deepen  the  long  night  of  bondage  and  mourning, 
That  dark  o'er  the  kingdoms  of  earth  is  returning, 

And  darkest  of  all,  hapless  Erin,  o'er  thee." 

In  this  gloomy  condition  of  affairs  there  was  nothing  for 
Irish  patriotism  to  do  except  to  seek  for  the  removal,  by  con- 
stitutional means,  of  some  of  the  cruel  grievances  that  pressed 
on  the  people.  Emancipation  of  the  Catholics  from  the  large 
remainder  of  the  penal  laws  that  still  degraded  and  despoiled 
them  was  one  of  the  baits  held  out  by  Mr.  Pitt  when  playing 
his  cards  for  the  Union;  but  not  long  had  the  Irish  Parliament 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIC. 


;i 


been  numbered  with  the  things  that  were,  when  it  became  evi- 
dent that  the  minister  was  in  no  hurry  to  fulfil  his  engagement, 
and  it  was  found  necessary  to  take  some  steps  for  keeping  him 
to  his  promise.  Committees  were  formed,  meetings  were  held, 
speeches  were  made,  resolutions  were  adopted,  and  all  the 
machinery  of  parliamentary  endeavor  was  put  in  motion. 
The  leaders  of  the  Catholic  cause  in  this  case,  like  those  of  the 
national  cause  in  the  preceding  years,  were  liberal-minded  Pro- 
testant gentlemen;  but  as  time  wore  on,  a  young  barrister  from 
Kerry,  one  of  the  old  race  and  the  old  faith,  took  a  decided 
lead  amongst  them,  and  soon  became  its  recognized  champion, 
the  elect  of  the  nation,  the  *'  man  of  the  people."  Daniel 
O'Connell  stood  forth,  with  the  whole  mass  of  his  Catholic 
eountrymen  at  his  back,  to  wage  within  the  lines  of  the  con- 
stitution this  battle  for  Ireland.  He  fought  it  resolutely  and 
skilfully;  the  people  supported  him  with  an  unanimity  and  an 
enthusiasm  that  w^ere  wonderful;  their  spirit  rose  and  strength- 
ened to  that  degree  that  the  probability  of  another  civil  war 
began  to  loom  up  in  the  near  future — inquiries  instituted  by  the 
government  resulted  in  the  discovery  that  the  Catholics  serving 
in  the  army,  and  who  constituted  at  least  a  third  of  its  strength, 
were  in  full  sympathy  with  their  countrymen  on  this  question, 
and  could  not  be  depended  on  to  act  against  them — the  minis- 
try recognized  the  critical  condition  of  affairs,  saw  that  there 
was  danger  in  delay,  yielded  to  the  popular  demand — and 
Catholic  Emancipation  was  won. 

The  details  of  that  brilliant  episode  of  Irish  history  cannot 
be  told  within  the  limits  of  this  work,  but  some  of  its  conse- 
quences concern  us  very  nearly.  The  triumph  of  the  constitu- 
tional struggle  for  Catholic  Emancipation  confirmed  O'Connell 
in  the  resolution  he  had  previously  formed,  to  promote  an  agi- 
tation for  a  Repeal  of  the  Union,  and  encouraged  him  to  lay 
the  proposal  before  his  countrymen.  The  forces  that  had 
wrung  the  one  measure  of  justice  from  an  unwilling  parliament 
were  competent,  he  declared,  to  obtain  the  other.  He  soon 
succeeded  in  impressing  his  own  belief  on   the   minds  of  his 


^2  SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK. 

countrymen,  whose  confidence  in  his  wisdom  and  his  powers 
was  unbounded.  The  whole  country  responded  to  his  call,  and 
soon  "  the  Liberator,"  as  the  emancipated  Irish  Catholics 
loved  to  call  him,  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  political  or- 
ganization which  in  its  mode  of  action,  its  extent,  and  its  ardor 
was  *'  unique  in  the  history  of  the  world."  Every  city  and 
great  town  in  Ireland  had  its  branch  of  the  Repeal  Associa- 
tion— every  village  had  its  Repeal  reading-room,  all  deriving 
hope  and  life,  and  taking  direction  from  the  headquarters  in 
Dublin,  where  the  great  Tribune  himself  "  thundered  and  light- 
ened" at  the  weekly  meetings.  All  Ireland  echoed  with  his 
words.  Newspapers,  attaining  thereby  to  a  circulation  never 
before  approached  in  Ireland,  carried  them  from  one  extremity 
of  the  land  to  the  other — educating,  cheering,  and  inspiring  the 
hearts  of  the  long  downtrodden  people.  Nothing  like  this  had 
ever  occurred  before.  The  eloquence  of  the  patriot  orators  of 
the  Irish  parliament  had  not  been  brought  hoqie  to  the  masses 
of  the  population  ;  and  the  United  Irishmen  could  only  speak 
to  them  secretly,  in  whispers.  But  here  were  addresses  glow- 
ing, and  bold,  and  tender,  brimful  of  native  humor,  scathing  in 
their  sarcasms,  terrible  in  their  denunciations,  ineffably  beauti- 
ful in  their  pathos — addresses  that  recalled  the  most  glorious  as 
well  as  the  saddest  memories  of  Irish  history,  and  presented 
brilliant  vistas  of  the  future — addresses  that  touched  to  its 
fullest  and  most  delicious  vibration  every  chord  of  the  Irish 
heart — here  they  were,  being  sped  over  the  land  in  an  unfailing 
and  ever-welcome  supply.  The  peasant  read  them  to  his 
family  by  the  fireside,  when  his  hard  day's  work  was  done,  and 
the  fisherman,  as  he  steered  his  boat  homeward,  reckoned  as 
not  the  least  of  his  anticipated  pleasures,  the  reading  of  the 
last  report  from  Conciliation  Hall.  And  it  was  not  the  humbler 
classes  only  who  acknowledged  the  influence  of  the  Repeal 
oratory,  sympathized  with  the  movement,  and  enrolled  them- 
selves in  the  ranks.  The  priesthood,  almost  to  a  man,  were 
members  of  the  Association,  and  propagandists  of  its  principles; 
the  professional  classes  were  largely  represented  in  it ;  of  mer. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


n 


chants  and  traders,  it  could  count  up  a  long  roll ;  and  many  of 
the  landed  gentry,  even  though  they  held  her  Majesty's  Com- 
mission of  the  Peace,  were  amongst  its  most  prominent  sup- 
porters. In  short,  the  Repeal  Association  represented  the 
Irish  nation,  and  its  voice  was  the  voice  of  the  people.  The 
"Monster  Meetings"  of  the  year  1843  put  this  fact  beyond  the 
region  of  doubt  or  question.  As  popular  demonstrations  they 
were  wonderful  in  their  numbers,  their  order,  and  their  enthu- 
siasm. O'Connell,  elated  by  their  success,  fancied  that  his  vic- 
tory was  as  good  as  won.  He  knew  that  things  could  not  con- 
tinue to  go  on  as  they  were  going — either  the  government  or 
the  Repeal  Association  should  give  way,  and  he  believed  the 
government  would  yield.  For,  the  Association,  he  assured  his 
countrymen,  was  safe  within  the  limits  of  the  law,  and  not  a 
hostile  hand  could  be  laid  upon  it  without  violating  the  con- 
stitution. His  countrymen  had  nothing  to  do  but  obey  the  law 
and  support  the  Association,  and  a  Repeal  of  the  Union  within 
a  few  months  was,  he  said,  inevitable.  In  all  this  he  had  al- 
lowed his  own  heart  to  deceive  him;  and  his  mistake  was  clearly 
shown,  when  in  October,  1843,  the  government,  by  proclama- 
tion, and  a  display  of  military  force,  prevented  the  intended 
monster  meeting  at  Clontarf.  It  was  still  more  fully  estab- 
lished in  the  early  part  of  the  following  year,  when  he,  with  a 
number  of  his  political  associates,  was  brought  to  trial  for 
treasonable  and  seditious  practices,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced 
to  twelve  months'  imprisonment.  The  subsequent  reversal 
of  the  verdict  by  the  House  of  Lords,  was  a  legal  triumph  for 
O'Connell;  but,  nevertheless,  his  prestige  had  suffered  by  the 
occurrence,  and  his  policy  had  begun  to  pall  upon  the  minds  of 
the  people. 

After  his  release  the  business  of  the  Association  went  on  as 
before,  only  there  was  less  of  confidence  and  of  defiance  in  the 
speeches  of  the  Liberator,  and  there  were  no  more  monster 
meetings.  He  was  now  more  emphatic  than  ever  in  his  advo- 
cacy of  moral  force  principles,  and  his  condemnation  of  all 
ivarlike  hints  and  allusions.     The  weight  of  age — he  was  then 


M.  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

more  than  seventy  years — was  pressing  on  his  once  buoyant 
spirit ;  his  prison  experience  had  damped  his  courage ;  and  he 
was  haunted  night  and  day  by  a  conviction — terrible  to  his 
mind — that  there  was  growing  up  under  the  wing  of  the  As- 
sociation, a  party  that  would  teach  the  people  to  look  to  an 
armed  struggle  as  the  only  sure  means  of  obtaining  the  free- 
dom of  their  country.  The  writings  of  the  Natio?i — then  a 
new  light  in  the  literature  and  politics  of  Ireland — had  a  ring 
in  them  that  was  unpleasant  to  his  ears,  a  sound  as  of  clashing 
teel  and  the  explosion  of  gunpowder.  In  the  articles  of  that 
journal  much  honor  was  given  to  men  who  had  striven  for  Irish 
freedom  by  other  methods  than  those  in  favor  at  Conciliation 
Hall ;  and  the  songs  and  ballads  which  it  was  giving  to  the 
youth  of  Ireland — who  received  them  with  delight,  treasuring 
every  line  "as  if  an  angel  spoke" — were  bright  with  the  spirit 
of  battle,  and  taught  any  doctrine  except  the  sinfulness  of 
fighting  for  liberty. 

The  Liberator  grew  fearful  of  that  organ,  and  of  the  men 
by  whom  it  was  conducted.  He  distrusted  that  quiet-faced, 
thoughtful,  and  laborious  young  man,  whom  they  so  loved 
and  reverenced  —  the  founder,  the  soul,  and  the  centre  of 
their  party.  To  the  keen  glance  of  the  aged  leader  it  ap- 
peared that  for  all  that  placid  brow,  those  calm  grey  eyes,  and 
softly  curving  lip  of  his,  the  man  had  no  horror  of  blood- 
spilling  in  a  righteous  cause,  and  was  capable  not  only  of  de- 
liberately inciting  his  countrymen  to  rise  in  arms  against  Eng- 
lish rule,  but  also  of  taking  a  foremost  place  in  the  struggle. 
And  little  less  to  be  dreaded  than  Thomas  Davis,  was  his  friend 
and  collahoratcur,  Charles  Gavan  Duffy,  whose  sharp  and  active 
intellect  and  resolute  spirit  were  not  in  the  least  likely  to  allow 
the  national  cause  to  rest  forever  on  the  peaceful  platform  of 
Conciliation  Hall.  Death  removed  Davis  early  from  the  scene; 
but  in  John  Mitchel,  who  had  taken  his  place,  there  was  no 
gain  to  the  party  of  moral  force.  Then  there  was  that  other 
young  firebrand — that  dapper,  well-built,  well-dressed,  curled 
and  scented  young  gentleman   from  the  Urbs  Intacta— wYiosQ 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


n 


wondrous  eloquence,  with  the  glow  of  its  thought,  the  bril- 
liancy and  richness  of  its  imagery,  and  the  sweetness  of  its 
cadences,  charmed  and  swayed  all  hearts — adding  immensely 
to  the  dangers  of  the  situation.  O'Brien,  too,  staid  and  unim- 
pulsive  as  was  his  character,  deliberate  and  circumspect  as  were 
his  habits,  was  evidently  inclined  to  give  the  weight  of  his 
name  and  influence  to  this"  advanced"  party.  And  there  were 
many  less  prominent,  but  scarcely  less  able  men  giving  them 
the  aid  of  their  great  talents  in  the  press  and  on  the  platform 
— not  only  men,  but  women  too.  Some  of  the  most  inspiriting 
of  the  strains  that  were  inducing  the  youth  of  the  country  to 
familiarize  themselves  with  steel  blades  and  rifle-barrels  proceed- 
ed from  the  pens  of  those  fair  and  gifted  beings.  Day  after  day, 
as  this  party  sickened  of  the  stale  platitudes,  and  timid  counsels, 
and  croolvcd  policy  of  the  Hall,  O'Connell,  his  son  John,  and 
othe/  leading  members  of  the  Association,  insisted  more  and 
more  strongly  on  their  doctrine  of  moral  force,  and  indulged  in 
the  wildest  and  most  absurd  denunciations  of  the  principle  of 
armed  resistance  to  tyranny.  "  The  liberty  of  the  world,"  ex- 
claimed O'Connell,  *'  is  not  worth  the  shedding  of  one  drop  of 
human  blood."  Notwitnstanding  the  profound  disgust  which 
the  utterance  of  such  sentiments  caused  to  the  bolder  spirits  in 
the  Association,  they  would  have  continued  within  its  fold,  if 
those  debasing  principles  had  not  been  actipally  formulated  into 
a  series  of  resolutions,  and  proposed  for  the  acceptance  of  the 
Society.  Then  they  rose  against  the  ignoble  doctrine  which 
would  blot  the  fair  fame  of  all  who  ever  fought  for  liberty  in 
Ireland  or  elsewhere,  and  rank  the  noblest  men  the  world  ever 
saw  in  the  category  of  fools  and  criminals.  Meagher,  in  a 
brilliant  oration,  protested  against  the  resolutions,  and  showed 
why  he  would  not  ''abhor  and  stigmatize  the  sword."  Mr. 
John  O'Connell  interrupted  and  interfered  with  the  speaker.  It 
was  plain  that  freedom  of  speech  \/as  to  be  had  no  longer  on 
the  platform  of  the  Association,  and  that  men  of  spirit  had 
no  longer  any  business  there — Meagher  took  up  his  hat  and 
left  the  Hall,  and  amongst  the  crowd  that  accompanied  him; 


;6 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


went  William  Smith  O'Brien,  Thomas  Devin  Reilly,  Charles 

Gavan  Duffy,  and  John  Mitchel. 

After  this  disruption,  which  occurred  on  the  28th  of  July, 
1846,  came  the  formation  of  the  "  Irish  Confederation"  by  the 
seceders.  In  the  proceedings  of  the  new  Society  Mr.  Mitchel 
took  a  more  prominent  part  than  he  had  taken  in  the  business 
of  the  Repeal  Association.  And  he  continued  to  write  in  his 
own  terse  and  forcible  style  in  the  Nation.  But  his  mind  trav- 
elled too  fast  in  the  direction  of  war  for  either  the  journal  or 
the  society  with  which  he  was  connected.  The  desperate  con- 
dition of  the  country,  now  a  prey  to  all  the  horrors  of  famine, 
for  the  awfully  fatal  effects  of  which  the  government  was 
clearly  responsible — the  disorganization  and  decay  of  the  Repeal 
party,  consequent  on  the  death  of  O'Connell — the  introduction 
of  Arms'  Acts  and  other  coercive  measures  by  the  government, 
and  the  growing  ardor  of  the  Confederate  Clubs,  were  to  him 
as  signs  and  tokens  unmistakable  that  there  was  no  time  to  be 
lost  in  bringing  matters  to  a  crisis  in  which  the  people  should 
hold  their  own  by  force  of  arms.  Most  of  his  political  associates 
viewed  the  situation  with  more  patience ;  but  Mr.  Mitchel 
was  resolved  that  even  if  he  stood  alone,  ne  woAild  speak  out 
his  opinions  to  the  people.     In   the  latter  part  of  December, 

1847,  he  withdrew  from  the  Nation,     On  the  5th  of  February, 

1848,  at  the  close  of  a  debate,  which  lasted  two  days,  on  the 
merits  of  his  policy  of  immediate  resistance  to  the  collection  of 
rates,  rents,  and  taxes,  and  the  division  on  which  was  unfavor- 
able to  him,  he,  with  a  number  of  friends  and  sympathizers, 
withdrew  from  the  Confederation.  Seven  days  afterwards,  he 
issued  the  first  nwmber  of  a  newspaper,  bearing  the  significant 
title  of  the  United  Irishmany  and  having  for  its  motto  the  fol- 
lowing aphorism,  quoted  from  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone:  *'Our 
independence  must  be  had  at  all  hazards.  If  the  men  of  prop- 
erty will  not  support  us,  they  must  fall ;  we  can  support  our- 
selves by  the  aid  of  that  numerous  and  respectable  class  of 
the  community,  the  men  of  no  property.'* 

The  Nation  had  been  regarded  as  rather  an  outspoken  Jour 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


7} 


nal,  and  not  particularly  well  affected  to  the  rulers  of  the 
country.  But  it  was  mildness,  and  gentleness,  and  loyalty 
itself  compared  to  the  new-comer  in  the  field  of  journalism. 
The  sudden  uprising  of  a  most  portentous  comet  sweeping 
close  to  this  planet  of  ours  could  hardly  create  more  unfeigned 
astonishment  in  the  minds  of  people  in  general  than  did  the 
appearance  of  this  wonderful  newspaper,  brimful  of  open  and 
avowed  sedition,  crammed  with  incitements  to  insurrection,  and 
with  diligently  prepared  instructions  for  the  destruction  of  her 
Majesty*s  troops,  barracks,  stores,  and  magazines.  Men  rubbed 
their  eyes,  as  they  read  its  articles  and  correspondence,  scarcely 
believing  that  any  man  in  his  sober  senses  would  venture,  in 
any  part  ot  the  Queen's  dominions,  to  put  such  things  in  print. 
But  there  were  the  articles  and  the  letters,  nevertheless,  on  fair 
paper,  and  in  good  type,  published  in  a  duly  registered  news, 
paper,  bearing  the  impressed  stamp  of  the  Customs — a  sign  to 
all  men  that  the  proprietor  was  bound  in  heavy  sureties  to  the 
government  against  the  publication  of  *'  libel,  blasphemy,  or 
sedition"  !-  -couched,  moreover.  In  a  style  of  language  posses- 
sing such  grace  and  force,  such  delicacy  of  finish,  and  yet  such 
marvellous  strength,  rich  with  so  much  of  quiet  hnmor,  and 
bristling  v/ith  such  rasping  sarcasm  and  penetrating  invective, 
that  they  v/ere  read  as  an  intellectual  luxury  even  by  men  who 
regarded  as  utterly  wild  and  wicked  the  sentiments  they  con- 
veyed. The  first  editorial  utterance  in  this  journal  consisted 
of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Mitchel  to  the  Viceroy,  in  which  that 
functionary  was  addressed  as  "  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Clar- 
endon, Englishman,  calling  himself  her  Majesty's  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant-General  and  General  Governor  of  Ireland."  The  purport  of 
the  document  was  to  declare,  above  board,  the  aims  and  objects 
of  the  United  Irishynan,  a  journal  with  which,  wrote  Mr.  Mit- 
chel, "  your  lordship  and  your  lordship's  masters  and  servants 
are  to  have  more  to  do  than  may  be  agreeable  either  to  you  or 
me."  That  that  purpose  was  to  resume  the  struggle  which  had 
been  waged  by  Tone  and  Emmet,  or  as  Mr.  Mitchel  put  it, 
*the  Holy  War,  to  sweep  this  island  clear  of  the  English  nam« 


78 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


and  nation."  "  We  differ,"  he  said,  "  from  the  illustrious  cork 
spirators  of  '98,  not  in  principle — no,  not  an  iota — but,  as  I 
shall  presently  show  you,  materially,  as  to  the  mode  of  action." 
And  the  difference  was  to  consist  in  this— that  whereas  the  rev- 
olutionary organization  in  '98  was  a  secret  one,  which  was 
ruined  by  spies  and  informers,  that  of  '48  was  to  be  an  open 
one,  concerning  which  informers  could  tell  nothing  that  its  pro- 
moters would  not  willingly  proclaim  from  the  house-tops.  *'  If 
you  desire,"  he  wrote,  ''  to  have  a  Castle  detective  employed 
about  the  United  IrisJinian  office  in  Trinity  Street,  I  shall  make 
no  objection,  provided  the  man  be  sober  and  honest.  If  Sir 
George  Grey,  or  Sir  William  Somerville,  would  like  to  read 
our  correspondence,  we  make  him  welcome  for  the  present 
— only  let  the  letters  be  forwarded  without  losing  a  post." 
Of  the  fact  that  he  would  speedily  be  called  to  account  for 
his  conduct  in  one  of  her  Majesty's  courts  of  law,  the  writer 
of  this  defiant  language  was  perfectly  cognizant;  but  he  de- 
clared that  the  inevitable  prosecution  would  be  his  opportu- 
nity of  achieving  a  victory  over  the  government.  "  For  be  it 
known  to  you,"  he  wrote,  "  that  in  such  a  case  you  shall  either 
publicly,  boldly,  notoriously  pack  a  jury,  or  else  see  the  ac- 
cused rebel  walk  a  free  man  out  of  the  court  of  Queen's  Bench — 
which  will  be  a  victory  only  less  than  the  rout  of  your  lord- 
ship's  red-coats  in  the  open  field."  In  case  of  his  defeat^ 
other  men  would  take  up  the  cause,  and  maintain  it,  until  at  last 
England  would  have  to  fall  back  on  her  old  system  of  courts- 
martial,  and  triangles,  and  free  quarters,  and  Irishmen  would 
find  that  there  was  no  help  for  them  ''  in  franchises,  in  votings, 
in  spoutings,  in  shoutings,  and  toasts  drank  with  enthusiasm — • 
nor  in  anything  in  this  world,  save  the  extensor  and  contractor 
muscles  of  their  right  arms,  in  these,  and  in  the  goodness  of 
God  above."  The  conclusion  of  this  extraordinary  address  to 
her  Majesty's  representative  was  in  the  following  terms : — 

"  In  plain  English,  my  Lord  Ear]  the  deep  and  irreconcilable  dis- 
affection of  this  people  to  all  British  laws,  lawgivers,  and  law  adminis- 
trators  shall  find  a  voice.     That  holy  hatred   of   foreign    dominion 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  7^ 

which  nerved  our  noble  predecessors  fifty  years  ago  for  the  dungeon, 
the  field,  or  the  gallows  (though  of  late  years  it  has  worn  a  vile  7iisi 
prius  gown,  and  snivelled  somewhat  in  courts  of  law  and  on  spouting 
platforms)  still  lives,  thank  God  !  and  glows  as  fierce  and  as  hot  as  ever. 
To  educate  that  holy  hatred,  to  make  it  know  itself,  and  avow  itself, 
and,  at  last,  fill  itself  full,  I  hereby  devote  the  columns  of  the  United 
Irishman** 

After  this  address  to  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  Mr.  Mitchel  took 
to  addressing  the  farming  classes,  and  it  is  really  a  study  to  ob- 
serve the  exquisite  precision,  the  clearness,  and  the  force  of  the 
language  he  employed  to  convey  his  ideas  to  them.  In  his 
second  letter  he  supposes  the  case  of  a  farmer  who  has  the  en- 
tire produce  of  his  land  in  his  haggard,  in  the  shape  of  six 
stacks  of  corn ;  he  shows  that  three  of  these  ought,  in  all  honor 
and  conscience,  to  be  sufficient  for  the  landlord  and  the  govern- 
ment to  seize  upon,  leaving  the  other  three  to  support  the  fam- 
ily of  the  man  whose  labor  had  produced  them.  But  what  are 
the  facts? — the  landlord  and  the  government  sweep  all  away, 
and  the  peasant  and  his  family  starve  by  the  ditch-sides.  As 
an  illustration  of  this  condition  of  things,  he  quotes  from  a 
soutiiern  paper  an  account  of  an  inquest  held  on  the  body  of  a 
man  named  Boland,  and  on  the  bodies  of  his  two  daughters, 
who,  as  the  verdict  declared,  had  *'  died  of  cold  and  starvation," 
although  occupants  of  a  farm  of  over  twenty  acres  in  extent. 
On  this  melancholy  case  the  comment  of  the  editor  of  the 
United  Irishman  was  as  follows  : — 

"  Now,  what  became  of  poor  Boland's  twenty  acres  of  crop  ?  Part 
of  it  went  to  Gibraltar,  to  victual  the  garrison  ;  part  to  South  Africa, 
to  provision  the  robber  army  ;  part  went  to  Spain,  to  pay  for  the  land- 
lord's wine  ;  part  to  London,  to  pay  the  interest  of  his  honor's  mort- 
gage to  the  Jews.  The  English  ate  some  of  it ;  the  Chinese  had  their 
share  ;  the  Jews  and  the  Gentiles  divided  it  amongst  them^and  there 
was  none  for  Boland." 

As  to  the  manner  in  which  the  condition  and  fate  of  poor 
Boland  were  to  be  avoided,  abundant  instructions  were  given 
in  every  number.  The  anti-tithe  movement  was  quoted  as  a 
model  to  begin  with  ;  but,  of  course,  that  was  to   be  improved 


3o  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

Upon.  The  idea  that  the  people  would  not  venture  on  such 
desperate  movements,  and  had  grown  enamoured  of  the  Peace 
policy  and  of ''  Patience  and  Perseverance,"  Mr.  Mitchel  refused 
to  entertain  for  a  moment : — 

"  I  will  not  believe  that  Irishmen  are  so  degraded  and  utterly  lost 
as  this.  The  earth  is  awakening  from  sleep  :  a  flash  of  electric  fire 
is  passing  through  the  dumb  millions.  Democracy  is  girding  himself 
once  more  like  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race  ;  and  slumbering  nations 
are  arising  in  their  might,  and  '  shaking  their  invincible  locks.'  Oh  ! 
my  countrymen,  look  up,  look  up  !  Arise  from  the  death-dust  where 
you  have  long  been  lying,  and  let  this  light  visit  your  eyes  also,  and 
touch  your  souls!  Let  your  ears  drink  in  the  blessed  words,  '  Liberty  ! 
Fraternity  !  Equality  !'  which  are  soon  to  ring  from  pole  to  pole  ! 
Clear  steel  will,  ere  long,  dawn  upon  you  in  your  desolate  darkness  ; 
and  the  rolling  thunder  of  the  people's  cannon  will  drive  before  it 
many  a  heavy  cloud  that  has  long  hidden  from  you  the  face  of  heaven. 
Pray  for  that  day  ;  and  preserve  life  and  health,  that  you  may  worthily 
meet  it.  Above  all,  let  the  man  amongst  you  who  has  no  gun  sell  his 
garment  and  buy  one." 

So  Mr.  Mitchel  went  on  for  some  weeks,  preaching  in  earnest 
and  exciting  language  the  necessity  of  preparation  for  an  im- 
mediate grapple  with  ''  the  enemy."  In  the  midst  of  his 
labors  came  the  startling  news  of  another  revolution  in  France, 
Louis  Phillippe  in  full  flight,  and  the  proclamation  of  a 
Republic.  Yet  a  few  days  more,  and  the  Berliners  had  risen 
and  triumphed,  only  stopping  short  of  chasing  their  king  away 
because  he  conceded  all  they  were  pleased  to  require  of  him  ; 
then  came  insurrection  in  Sicily,  insurrection  in  Lombardy, 
insurrection  in  Milan,  insurrection  in  Hungary — in  short,  the 
revolutionary  movement  became  general  throughout  Europe, 
and  thrones  and  principalities  were  tumbling  and  tottering  in 
all  directions.  Loud  was  the  complaint  in  the  United  Irishman 
because  Dublin  was  remaining  tranquil.  It  was  evident,  how* 
ever,  that  the  people  and  their  leaders  were  feeling  the  revolu- 
tionary impulse,  and  that  matters  were  fast  hurrying  towards 
an  outbreak.  John  Mitchel  knew  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand, 
and  devoted  all  his  energies  to  making  the  best  use  of  the  short 
time   that  his  newspaper  had   to   live.     His   writing   becamd 


SPEECHES  mOM    THE  DOCK.  gl 

fiercer,  more  condensed,  and  more  powerful  than  ever.  Lord 
Clarendon  was  now  addressed  as  "  Her  Majesty's  Executioner 
General  and  General  Butcher  of  Ireland,"  and  instructions  for 
street  warfare  and  all  sorts  of  operations  suitable  for  an  insur- 
gent populace  occupied  a  larger  space  than  ever  in  his  paper. 
But  the  government  were  now  resolved  to  close  with  their  bold 
and  clever  enemy.  On  Tuesday,  the  2 1st  of  March,  1848, 
Messrs.  O'Brien,  Meagher,  and  Mitchel  were  arrested,  the 
former  for  seditious  speeches,  uttered  at  a  meeting  of  the 
Confederation,  held  on  the  15th  of  that  month,  the  latter  for 
three  seditious  articles  published  in  the  United  Irishman.  All 
were  released  on  bail,  and  when  the  trials  came  on,  in  the 
month  of  May,  disagreements  of  the  jury  took  place  in  the 
cases  of  O'Brien  and  Meagher.  But  before  the  trial  of  Mr. 
Mitchel  could  be  proceeded  with,  he  was  arrested  on  a  fresh 
charge  of  *'  treason-felony " — a  new  crime,  which  had  been 
manufactured  by  act  of  Parliament  a  few  weeks  before.  He 
was,  therefore,  fast  in  the  toils,  and  with  but  little  cha*nce  of 
escape.  Little  concern  did  this  give  the  brave-hearted  patriot, 
who  only  hoped  and  prayed  that  at  last  the  time  had  come 
when  his  countrymen  would  launch  out  upon  the  resolute 
course  of  action  which  he  had  so  earnestly  recommended  to 
them.  From  his  cell  in  Newgate,  on  the  i6th  of  May,  he  ad- 
dressed to  thern  one  of  his  most  exciting  letters,  of  which  the 
following  are  the  concluding  passages:  — 

"  For  me,  I  abide  my  fate  joyfully  ;  for  I  know  that,  whatever 
betide  me,  my  work  is  nearly  done.  Yes  :  Moral  Force  and  '  Patience 
and  Perseverance'  are  scattered  to  the  wild  winds  of  heaven.  The 
music  my  countrymen  now  love  best  to  hear  is  the  rattle  of  arms,  and 
the  ring  of  the  rifle.  As  I  sit  here  and  write  in  my  lonely  cell,  I  hear, 
just  dying  away,  the  measured  tramp  of  ten  thousand  marching  men 
— my  gallant  confederates,  unarmed  and  silent,  but  with  hearts  like 
bended  bow,  waiting  till  the  time  comes.  They  have  marched  past  my 
prison  windows,  to  let  me  know  there  are  ten  thousand  fighting  men  in 
Dublin — '  felons'  in  heart  and  soul. 

"  I  thank  God  for  it.  The  game  is  afoot  at  last.  The  liberty  of 
Ireland  may  come  sooner  or  later,  by  peaceful  negotiation  or  bloody 
conflict — but  it  is  sure  ;  and  wherever  between  the  poles  I  may  chance 
to  be,  I  will  hear  the  crash  of  the  downfall  of  the  thrice-accursed 
British  Empire.** 


32  SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK. 

On  Monday,  May  22d,  1848,  the  trial  of  Mr.  MItchel  com* 
menced  in  the  Commission  Court,  Green  Street,  before  Baron 
Lefroy.  He  was  eloquently  defended  by  the  veteran  lawyer 
and  uncompromising  patriot,  Robert  Holmes,  the  brother-in- 
law  of  Robert  Emmet.  The  mere  law  of  the  case  was  strong 
against  the  prisoner,  but  Mr.  Holmes  endeavored  to  raise  the 
minds  of  the  jury  to  the  moral  view  of  the  case,  upon  which 
English  juries  have  often  acted  regardless  of  the  letter  of 
the  act  of  Parliament.  With  a  jury  of  Irishmen  impartially 
chosen  it  would  have  been  a  good  defence,  but  the  Castle 
had  made  sure  of  their  men  in  this  case.  At  five  o'clock  on 
the  evening  of  the  26th,  the  case  went  to  the  jury,  who,  after 
an  absence  of  two  hours,  returned  into  court  with  a  verdict  of 
"  Guilty." 

That  verdict  was  a  surprise  to  no  one.  On  the  day  the  jury 
was  impanelled,  the  prisoner  and  every  one  else  knew  what  it 
was  to  be.  It  was  now  his  turn  to  have  a  word  to  say  for  him- 
self, and  he  spoke,  as  was  his  wont,  in  plain  terms,  answering 
thus  the  question  that  had  been  put  to  him  : — 

"I  have  to  say  that  I  have  been  found  guilty  by  a  packed  jury — by 
the  jury  of  a  partisan  sheriff — by  a  jury  not  impanelled  even  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  England.  I  have  been  found  guilty  by  a  packed  jury 
obtained  by  a  juggle — a  jury  not  impanelled  by  a  sheriff,  but  a  juggler. 

This  was  touching  the  high  sheriff  on  a  tender  place,  and  he 
immediately  called  out  for  the  protection  of  the  court.  Where- 
upon Baron  Lefroy  interposed,  and  did  gravely  and  deliberately, 
as  is  the  manner  of  judges,  declare  that  the  imputation  which 
had  just  been  made  on  the  character  of  that  excellent  ofificial, 
the  high  sheriff,  was  most  "  unwarranted  and  unfounded."  He 
adduced,  however,  no  reason  in  support  of  that  declaration — ■ 
not  a  shadow  of  proof  that  the  conduct  of  the  aforesaid  official 
was  fair  or  honest — but  proceeded  to  say  that  the  jurv  had 
found  the  prisoner  guilty  on  evidence  supplied  by  his  own 
writings,  some  of  which  his  lordship,  with  a  proper  expression 
of  horror  on  his  countenance,  proceeded  to  read  from  his  notes. 
In  one  of  the  prisoner's  publications,  he  said,  there  appeared 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK.  |^ 

the  following  passage :  "  There  is  now  growing  on  the  soil  of 
Ireland  a  wealth  of  grain,  and  roots,  and  cattle,  far  more  than 
enough  to  sustain  in  life  and  comfort  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
island.  That  wealth  must  not  leave  us  another  year,  not  until 
every  grain  of  it  is  fought  for  in  every  stage,  from  the  tying  of 
the  sheaf  to  the  loading  of  the  ship ;  a  id  the  effort  necessary 
to  that  simple  act  of  self-preservation  will  at  one  and  the  same 
blow  prostrate  British  dominion  and  landlordism  together."  In 
reference  to  this  piece  of  writing,  and  many  others  of  a  similar 
nature,  his  lordship  remarked  that  no  effort  had  been  made  to 
show  that  the  prisoner  was  not  responsible  for  them  ;  it  was 
only  contended  that  they  involved  no  moral  guilt.  But  the  law 
was  to  be  vindicated  ;  and  it  now  became  his  duty  to  pronounce 
the  sentence  of  the  court,  which  was — that  the  prisoner  be  trans- 
ported beyond  the  seas  for  a  term  of  fourteen  years.  The 
severity  of  the  sentence  occasioned  general  surprise ;  a  general 
suspiration  and  low  murmurs  were  heard  through  the  court. 
Then  there  was  stillness  as  of  death,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
tones  of  John  Mitchel's  voice  rang  out  clearly  as  he  said: — 

**  The  law  has  now  done  its  part,  and  the  Queen  of  England,  her 
crown  and  government  in  Ireland  are  now  secure,  pursuant  to  act  of 
Parliament.  I  have  done  my  part  also.  Three  months  ago  I  promised 
Lord  Clarendon,  and  his  government  in  this  country,  that  I  would 
provoke  him  into  his  courts  of  justice,  as  places  of  this  kind  are  called, 
and  that  I  would  force  him  publicly  and  notoriously  to  pack  a  jury 
against  me  to  convict  me,  or  else  that  I  would  walk  a  free  man  out  of 
this  court,  and  provoke  him  to  a  contest  in  another  field.  My  lord,  I 
knew  I  was  setting  my  life  on  that  cast,  but  I  knew  that  in  either 
event  the  victory  should  be  with  me,  and  it  is  with  me.  Neither  the 
jury,  nor  the  judges,  nor  any  other  man  in  this  court  presumes  to  ima- 
gine that  it  is  a  criminal  who  stands  in  this  dock." 

Here  there  were  murmurs  of  applause  which  caused  the 
criers  to  call  out  for  *'  Silence !"  and  the  police  to  look  fiercely 
on  the  people  around  them.     Mr.  Mitchel  resumed  : — 

"  I  have  shown  what  the  law  is  made  of  in  Ireland.  I  have  shown 
that  her  Majesty's  government  sustains  itself  in  Ireland  by  packed 
juries,  by  partisan  judges,  by  prejured  sheriffs." 


8^  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOClt, 

Baron  Lefroy  interposed.  The  court  could  not  sit  there  ta 
hear  the  prisoner  arraign  the  jurors,  the  sheriffs,  the  courts,  and 
the  tenure  by  which  England  holds  this  country.  Again  thtf 
prisoner  spoke: — 

"  I  have  acted  all  through  this  business,  from  the  first,  under  a  strong 

sense  of  duty.  I  do  not  repent  anything  that  I  have  done,  and  I  be- 
lieve that  the  course  which  I  have  opened  is  only  commenced.  The 
Roman  who  saw  his  hand  burning  to  ashes  before  the  tyrant,  promised 
that  three  hundred  should  follow  out  his  enterprise.  Can  I  not  promise 
for  one,  for  two,  for  three,  aye  for  hundreds  ?" 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  Mr.  Mitchel  looked  proudly 
into  the  faces  of  the  friends  near  him,  and  around  the  court. 
His  words  and  his  glance  were  immediately  responded  to  by  an 
outburst  of  passionate  voices  from  all  parts  of  the  building,  ex- 
claiming— ''For  me!  for  me!  promise  for  me  Mitchel!  and 
for  me !"  And  then  came  a  clapping  of  hands,  and  a  stamping 
of  feet,  that  sounded  loud  and  sharp  as  a  discharge  of  mus- 
ketry, followed  by  a  shout  like  a  peal  of  thunder.  John  Martin, 
Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  and  Devin  Reilly,  with  other  gentle- 
men who  stood  close  by  the  dock,  reached  over  it  to  grasp  the 
hand  of  the  new-made  felon.  The  aspect  cf  affairs  looked 
alarming  for  a  moment.  The  policemen  laid  violent  hands  on 
the  persons  near  them,  and  pulled  them  about.  Mr.  Meagher 
and  Mr.  Doheny  were  taken  into  custody.  Baron  Lefroy,  in  a 
high  state  of  excitement,  cried  out — "Officer!  remove  Mr. 
Mitchel !"  and  then,  with  his  brother  judges,  retired  hurriedly 
from  the  bench.  The  turnkeys  who  stood  in  the  dock  with  Mr. 
Mitchel  motioned  to  him  that  he  was  to  move,  he  took  a  step 
of  two  down  the  little  stairs  under  the  flooring  of  the  court- 
house, and  his  friends  saw  him  no  more. 

He  was  led  through  the  passages  that  communicated  with 
the  adjoining  prison,  and  ushered  into  a  dark  and  narrow  cell, 
in  which,  however,  his  detention  was  of  but  a  few  hours'  dura- 
tion. At  four  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  that  day — May  27th, 
1848 — the  prison-van,  escorted  by  a  large  force  of  mounted 
police  and  dragoons,  wilh  drawn  sabres,  drove  up  to  the  prison 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCJt-. 


85 


gate.  It  was  opened,  and  forth  walked  John  Mitchel — m  fet- 
ters. A  heavy  chain  was  attached  to  his  right  leg  by  a  shackle 
at  the  ankle;  the  other  end  was  to  have  been  attached  to  the 
left  leg,  but  as  the  jailors  had  not  time  to  effect  the  connexion 
when  the  order  came  for  the  removal  of  the  prisoner,  they  bade 
him  take  it  in  his  hand,  and  it  was  in  this  plight,  with  a  festoon 
of  iron  from  his  hand  to  his  foot,  he  passed  from  the  prison 
into  the  street — repeating  mayhap  to  his  own  heart,  the  words 
uttered  by  Wolfe  Tone  in  circumstances  not  dissimilar: — "■  For 
the  cause  which  I  have  embraced,  1  feel  prouder  to  wear  these 
chains,  than  if  I  were  decorated  with  the  Star  and  Garter  of  Eng- 
land.*' Four  or  five  police  inspectors  assisted  him  to  step  into  the 
van,  the  door  was  closed  after  him,  the  word  was  given  to  the 
escort,  and  off  went  the  cavalcade,  at  a  thundering  pace  to  the 
North-wall,  where  a  government  steamer,  the  "  Shearwater," 
was  lying  with  her  steam  up  in  readiness  to  receive  him.  He 
clambered  the  side-ladder  of  the  steamer  with  some  assistance ; 
on  reaching  the  deck,  the  chains  tripped  him,  and  he  fell  for- 
ward. Scarcely  was  he  on  his  feet  again,  when  the  paddles  of 
the  steamer  were  beating  the  water,  and  the  vessel  was  moving 
from  the  shores  of  that  **  Isle  of  Destiny,"  which  he  loved  so 
well,  and  a  sight  of  which  has  never  since  gladdened  the  eyes 
of  John  Mitchel. 

The  history  of  Mr.  Mitchel's  subsequent  career,  which  has 
been  an  eventful  one,  does  not  rightly  fall  within  the  scope 
of  this  work.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  on  June  1st,  1848,  he 
was  placed  on  board  the  "  Scourge,'*  man-of-war,  which  then 
sailed  off  for  Bermuda.  There  Mr  Mitchel  was  retained  on 
board  a  penal  ship,  or  "hulk,"  until  April  22d,  1849,  when  he 
was  transferred  to  the  ship  "  Neptune,"  on  her  way  from  Eng- 
land to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  whither  she  was  taking  a 
batch  of  British  convicts.  Those  convicts  the  colonists  at  the 
Cape  refused  to  receive  into  their  country,  and  a  long  struggle 
ensued  between  them  and  the  commander  of  the  "  Neptune," 
who  wished  to  deposit  his  cargo  according  to  instructions.  The 
colonists  were  willing  to  make  an  exception  in  the  case  of  Mr. 


£5  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

Mitchel,  but  the  naval  officer  could  not  think  of  making  p.n^F 
compromise  in  the  matter  The  end  of  the  contest  was  that 
the  vessel,  with  her  cargo  of  convicts  on  board,  sailed  on  Feb* 
ruary  19th,  1850,  for  Van  Dieman's  Land,  where  she  arrived  on 
April  7th,  of  the  same  year.  In  consideration  of  the  hard- 
ships they  had  undergone  by  reason  of  their  detention  at  the 
Cape,  the  government  granted  a  conditional  pardon  to  all  the 
criminal  convicts  on  their  arrival  at  Hobart  Town.  It 
set  them  free  on  the  condition  that  they  should  not  return 
to  the  ''  United  Kingdom."  Mr.  Mitchel  and  the  other 
political  convicts  were  less  mercifully  treated.  It  was  not 
until  the  year  1854  that  a  similar  amount  of  freedom  was 
given  to  these  gentlemen.  Some  months  previous  to  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Mitchel  at  Hobart  Town,  his  friends,  William 
Smith  O'Brien,  John  Martin,  Thomas  F.  Meagher,  Kevin  Izod 
O'Doherty,  Terence  Bellew  MacManus,  and  Patrick  O'Don- 
oghue,  had  reached  the  same  place,  there  to  serve  out  the  vari- 
ous terms  of  transportation  to  which  they  had  been  sentenced. 
All  except  Mr.  O'Brien,  who  had  refused  to  enter  into  these 
arrangements,  were  at  that  time  on  parole — living,  however,  in 
separate  and  limited  districts,  and  no  two  of  them  nearer  than 
thirty  or  forty  miles.  On  his  landing  from  the  "  Neptune," 
Mr.  Mitchel,  in  consideration  of  the  delicate  state  of  his 
health,  was  allowed  to  reside  with  Mr.  Martin  in  the  Bothwell 
district. 

In  the  summer  of  the  year  1853,  a  number  of  Irish  gentle- 
men in  America  took  measures  to  effect  the  release  of  on^^ 
or  more  of  the  Irish  patriots  from  Van  Dieman's  Land,  and  Mr. 
P.  J.  Smyth  sailed  from  New  York  on  that  patriotic  mission. 
Arrived  in  Van  Dieman's  Land,  the  authorities,  who  seemed  to 
have  suspicion  of  his  business,  placed  him  under  arrest,  from 
which  he  was  released  after  three  days'  detention.  The  friends 
soon  managed  to  meet  and  come  to  an  understanding  as  to 
to  their  plan  of  future  operations,  in  conformity  with  which, 
Mr.  Mitchel  penned  the  following  letter  to  the  governor  of  the 
island  • — 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK  8; 

''BoTHWELL,  8th  June,  1853. 

"Sir, — I  hereby  resign  the  *comparatis^e  liberty,*  called  ^ticket-of 
leave,'  and  revoke  my  parole  of  honor.     I  shall  forthwith  present  my- 
self before  the  police  magistrate  of  Bothwell,  at  his  police  office,  show 
him  this  letter,  and  offer  myself  to  be  taken  into  custody.     I  am,  sir, 

your  obedient  servant,  «  t  ,^  „ 

'  *  John  Mitchel. 

On  the  next  day,  June  9th,  Mr,  Mitchel  and  Mr.  Smyth 
went  to  the  police  office,  sav^^  the  magistrate  with  his  attending 
constables ,  handed  him  the  letter,  waited  until  he  had  read  its 
contents,  addressed  to  him  a  verbal  statement  to  the  same 
effect,  and  while  he  appeared  to  be  paralyzed  with  astonishment, 
and  uncertain  what  to  do,  touched  their  hats  to  him  and  left 
the  office.  Chase  after  them  was  vain,  as  they  had  mounted  a 
a  pair  of  fleet  steeds  after  leaving  the  presence  of  his  worship  ; 
but  it  was  not  until  six  weeks  afterwards  that  they  were  able 
to  get  shipping  and  leave  the  island.  On  the  12th  of  October, 
1853,  Mr.  Mitchel  was  landed  safe  in  California — to  the 
intense  delight  of  his  countrymen  throughout  the  American 
States,  who  celebrated  the  event  by  many  joyful  banquets. 

Since  then,  Mr.  Mitchel  has  occupied  himself  mainly  with 
the  press.  He  started  the  Citizen  in  New  York,  and  subse- 
quently at  Knoxville,  Tennessee,  the  Southern  Citizen.  As 
editor  of  the  Richmond  Examiner  during  the  American  civil 
war,  he  ably  supported  the  Southern  cause,  to  which  he  gave 
a  still  stronger  pledge  of  his  attachment  in  the  services  and  the 
lives  of  two  of  his  brave  sons.  One  of  these  gentlemen,  Mr. 
William  Mitchel,  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg;  the 
other,  Captain  John  Mitchel,  who  had  been  placed  in  command 
of  the  important  position  of  Fort  Sumter,  was  shot  on  the 
parapet  of  that  work,  on  July  19th,  1864.  Shortly  after  the 
close  of  the  war,  Mr.  John  Mitchel  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 
Federal  government ,  but  after  undergoing  an  imprisonment 
of  some  months  his  release  was  ordered  by  President  Johnson, 
acting  on  the  solicitation  of  a  large  and  influential  deputation 
of  Irishmen.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1867,  turning  to 
the  press  again,  he  started  the  Irish  Citizen  at  New  York,  and 


33  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

in  that  journal,  at  the  date  of  this  writing,  he  continues  to 
wield  his  trenchant  pen  on  behalf  of  the  Irish  cause.  To  that 
cause,  through  all  the  lapse  of  time,  and  change  of  scene,  and 
vicissitude  of  fortune  which  he  has  known,  his  heart  has  re- 
mained forever  true.  He  has  suffered  much  for  it ;  that  he 
may  live  to  see  it  triumphant  is  a  prayer  which  finds  an  echo  in 
the  hearts  of  all  his  fellow-countrymen. 

We  have  written  of  Mr.  Mitchel  only  in  reference  to  his  po- 
litical career ,  but  we  can,  without  trenching  in  any  degree  on 
the  domain  of  private  life,  supply  some  additional  and  authentic 
details  which  will  be  of  interest  to  Irish  readers.  The  distin- 
guished subject  of  our  memoir  was  born  at  Camnish,  near  Dun- 
given,  in  the  county  of  Derry,  on  the  3rd  of  November,  18 15. 
His  father  was  the  Rev.  John  Mitchel,  at  that  time  Presbyte- 
rian minister  of  Dungiven,  and  a  good  patriot,  too,  having  been 
— as  we  learn  from  a  statement  casually  made  by  Mr.  Mitchel 
in  Conciliation  Hall — one  of  the  United  Irish;nen  of  1798.  The 
maiden  name  of  his  mother,  who  also  came  of  a  Presbyterian 
and  county  Derry  family,  was  Mary  Haslitt.  At  Newry, 
whither  the  Rev.  Mr.  Mitchel  removed  in  the  year  1823,  and 
where  he  continued  to  reside  till  his  death  in  1843,  young  John 
Mitchel  was  sent  to  the  school  of  Dr.  David  Henderson,  from 
which  he  entered  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  about  the  year  1830 
or  183 1.  He  did  not  reside  within  the  college,  but  kept  his 
terms  by  coming  up  from  the  country  to  attend  the  quarterly 
examinations.  Though  he  did  not  distinguish  himself  in  his 
college  course,  and  had  paid  no  more  attention  to  the  books 
prescribed  for  his  studies  than  seemed  necessary  for  passing  his 
examinations  respectably,  John  Mitchel  was  known  to  his  in- 
timate friends  to  be  a  fine  scholar  and  possessed  of  rare  ability. 
While  still  a  college  student,  he  was  bound  apprentice  to  a  so- 
licitor in  Newry.  Before  the  completion  of  his  apprenticeship, 
in  the  year  1835,  he  married  Jane  Verner,  a  young  lady  of  re- 
markable beauty,  and  only  sixteen  years  of  age  at  the  time,  a 
daughter  of  Captain  James  Verner.  Not  long  after  his  marriage 
he  entered  into  partnership  in  his  profession,  and  in  conformity 


WILLIAM    S.   O'BRIEN. 
JOHN    MITCHEL  ^Olifi  MARTIN. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCR\  89 

with  the  arrangements  agreed  upon,  went  to  reside  at  Banbridge, 
a  town  ten  miles  north  of  Newry,  where  he  continued   to  prac- 
tice as  a  soUcitor  until  the  death  of  Thomas  Davis,  in  1845.     He 
had  been  an  occasional  contributor  to  the  Nation  almost  from 
the  date  of  its  foundation  ,  its  editors   recognized   at  once  his 
splendid  literary  powers,  and  when  the  "  Library  of  Ireland" 
was  projected,  pressed  him  to  write  one  of  the  volumes,  sug- 
gesting as  his  subject  the  Life  of  Hugh  O'Neill.     How  ably  he 
fulfilled  the  task  is    known  to  his  countrymen,  who  rightly  re- 
gard the  volume   as  one  of   the   most  valuable  of  the  whole 
series.     When  death  removed  the  amiable  and  gifted  Thomas 
Davis  from  the  scene  of  his  labors,  Mr.  Duffy  invited  John  Mit- 
chel,  asthe  man  most  worthy  of  all  in  Ireland,  to  take  his  place. 
Mr.  Mitchel  regarded   the  invitation   as  the  call  of  his  country. 
He   gave  up  his   professional   business  in  Banbridge,  removed 
with  his  wife  and  family  into  Dublin,  and  there  throwing  himself 
heart  and  soul  into  the  cause,  fought  it  out  boldly  and  impetu. 
ously  until  the  day  when  bound  in  British  chains,  "the  enemy" 
bore  him  off  from  Ireland. 


JOHN  MARTIN. 


'hen  the  law  had  consummated  its  crime,and  the  doom 
of  the  felon  was  pronounced  against  John  Mitchel, 
there  stood  in  the  group  that  pressed  round  him  in 
the  dock  and  echoed  back  the  assurances  which  he 
flung  as  a  last  defiance  at  his  foes,  a  thoughtful,  deli- 
cate-looking, but  resolute  young  Irishman,  whose 
voice  perhaps  was  not  the  loudest  of  those  that  spoke  there, 
but  whose  heart  throbbed  responsively  to  his  words,  and  for 
whom  the  final  message  of  the  unconquerable  rebel  possessed  a 
meaning  and  significance  that  gave  it  the  force  of  a  special  rev- 
elation.    **  Promise  for  me,  Mitchel,"  they  cried  out,  but  he  had 


90 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


no  need  to  join  in  that  request  ;  he  had  no  need  to  intimate  'q 
Mr.  Mitchel  his  willingness  to  follow  out  the  enterprise  whicn 
that  fearless  patriot  had  so  boldly  commenced.  On  the  pre- 
vious day,  sitting  with  the  prisoner  in  his  gloomy  cell,  John  Mar- 
tin of  Loughorne  had  decided  on  the  course  which  he  would 
take  in  the  event  of  the  supression  of  the  United  Irishma7t,  and 
the  transportation  of  its  editor.  He  would  start  a  successor  to 
that  journal,  and  take  the  place  of  his  dear  friend  at  the  post 
of  danger.  It  was  a  noble  resolve,  deliberately  taken,  and  reso- 
lutely and  faithfully  was  it  carried  out.  None  can  read  the 
history  of  that  act  of  daring,  and  of  the  life  of  sacrifice  by 
which  it  has  been  followed,  and  not  agree  with  us  that  while 
the  memories  of  Tone,  of  Emmet,  and  of  Russell,  are  cherished 
in  Ireland,  the  name  of  John  Martin  ought  not  be  forgotten. 

A  few  days  subsequent   to  that   memorable  scene  in  Green 
Street  court-house,  John  Martin  quitted  his  comfortable  home 
and  the  green  slopes  of  Loughorne,  separated  himself  from  the 
friends  he  loved  and  the  relatives-who  idolized  him,  and  entered 
on  the  stormy  career  of  a  national  leader  and  journalist,  at  a  time 
when  to  advocate  the  principles  of  nationality  was  to  incur  the 
ferocious  hostility  of  a  government  whose  thirst  for  vengeance 
was  only  whetted  by  the  transportation  of  John  Mitchel.     He 
knew  the  danger  he  was   braving  ;  he  knew  that  the  path  on 
which  he  entered    led  down   to   sufferingr   and  ruin;    he  stood 
in  the  gap  from  which  Mitchel  had  been  hurled,  with  a  full  con- 
sciousness of  the  perils  of   the  situation  ;  but  inflinchingly  and 
unhesitatingly  as  the  martyr  goes  to  his  death,  he  threw  him- 
self into  the  thinning  ranks  of  the   patriot  leaders ;  and  when 
the  event  that  he  anticipated  arrived,  and  the  prison  gates  opened 
to  receive  him— then,  too,  in  the  midst  of  indignities  and  pri- 
vations— he  displayed  an  imperturbable  firmness  and  contempt 
for  physical  suffering,  that  showed  how  powerless  persecution 
iS  to  subdue   the  spirit  that    self-conscious  righteousness    sus- 
tains. 

His  history  previous  to  the  conviction  of  his  friend  and  school 
fellow,  John   Mitchel,  if  it  includes  no  events  of  public  import 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  Oi 

ance,  possesses  for  us  all  the  interest  that  attaches  to  the  early 
life  of  a  good  and  remarkable  man.  John  Martin  was  born  at 
Loughorne,  in  the  lordship  of  Newry,  county  Down,  on  the  8tb 
of  September,  1812  ;  being  the  eldest  son  of  Samuel  Martin  and 
Jane  Harshaw,  both  natives  of  that  neighborhood,  and  mem- 
bers of  Presbyterian  families  settled  there  for  many  generations. 
About  the  time  of  his  birth,  his  father  purchased  the  5v  e-simple 
of  the  large  farm  which  he  had  previously  rented,  and  two  of 
his  uncles  having  made  similar  investments  the  family  became 
proprietors  of  the  townland  on  which  they  lived.  Mr.  Samuel 
Martin,  who  died  in  183 1,  divided  his  attention  between  the 
management  of  the  linen  business — a  branch  of  industry  in  which 
the  family  had  partly  occupied  themselves  for  some  genera- 
tions— and  the  care  of  his  land.  His  family  consisted  of  nine 
j:hildren,  of  whom  John  Martin — the  subject  of  our  sketch — 
was  the  second  born.  The  principles  of  his  family,  if  they  could 
not  be  said  to  possess  the  hue  of  nationality,  were  at  least 
liberal  and  tolerant.  In  '98,  the  Martins  of  Loughorne,  were 
stern  opponents  of  the  United  Irishmen ;  but  in  '82  his  father 
and  uncles  were  enrolled  amongst  the  volunteers,  and  the  Act 
of  Union  was  opposed  by  them  as  a  national  calamity.  It  was 
from  his  good  mother,  however,  a  lady  of  refined  taste  and  re- 
markable mental  culture,  that  young  John  derived  his  inclina- 
tion for  literary  pursuits,  and  learned  the  maxims  of  justice 
and  equality  that  swayed  him  through  life.  He  speedily  dis- 
carded the  prejudices  against  Catholic  Emancipation,  which 
were  not  altogether  unknown  amongst  his  family,  and  which 
even  found  some  favor  with  himself  in  the  unreflecting  days  of 
boyhood.  The  natural  tendency  of  his  mind,  however,  was  as 
true  to  the  principles  of  justice  as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  and 
the  quiet  rebuke  that  one  day  fell  from  his  uncle — ''  What ! 
John,  would  you  not  give  your  Catholic  fellow-countrymen  the 
same  rights  that  you  enjoy  yourself?"  having  set  him  to  think- 
ing for  the  first  time  on  the  subject,  he  soon  formed  opinions 
more  in  consonance  with  liberality  and  fair  play. 

When  about  twelve  years  of  age,  young  Martin  was  sent  to 


92 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


the  school  of  Dr.  Henderson,  at  Newry,  where  he  first  became 
acquainted  with  John  Mitchel,  then  attending  the  same  semin- 
ary as  a  day-scholar.  We  next  find  John  Martin  an  extern 
student  of  Trinity  College,  and  a  year  after  the  death  of  his 
father  he  took  out  his  degree  in  Arts.  He  was  now  twenty 
years  old,  and  up  to  this  time  had  suffered  much  from  a  con« 
stitutional  affection,  being  subject  from  infancy  to  fits  of  spas- 
modic asthma.  Strange  to  say,  the  disease  which  troubled  him 
at  frequently  recurring  intervals  at  home,  seldom  attacked  him 
when  away  from  Loughorne,  and  partly  for  the  purpose  of  es- 
caping it,  he  took  up  his  residence  in  Dublin  in  1833,  and  de- 
voted himself  to  the  study  of  Medicine.  He  never  meditated 
earning  his  living  by  the  profession,  but  he  longed  for  the  op- 
portunity of  assuaging  the  sufferings  of  the  afflicted  poor.  The 
air  of  the  dissecting-room,  however,  was  too  much  for  Martin's 
delicate  nervous  organization ;  the  kindly  encouragement  of 
his  fellow-students  failed  to  induce  him  to  breathe  its  fetid  at- 
mosphere a  second  time,  and  he  was  forced  to  content  himself 
with  a  theoretical  knowledge  of  the  profession.  By  diligent 
study,  and  with  the  assistance  of  lectures,  anatomical  plates,  etc., 
he  managed  to  conquer  the  difficulty  ;  and  he  had  obtained 
nearly  all  the  certificates  necessary  for  taking  out  a  medical  de- 
gree, when  he  was  recalled  in  1835  to  Loughorne,  by  the  death 
of  his  uncle  John,  whose  house  and  lands  he  inherited. 

During  the  four  years  following  he  lived  at  Loughorne,  dis- 
charging the  duties  of  a  resident  country  gentleman  as  they 
are  seldom  performed  in  Ireland,  and  endearing  himself  to  all 
classes,  but  particularly  to  the  poor,  by  his  gentle  disposition 
purity  of  mind,  and  benevolence  of  heart.  In  him  the  afflicted 
and  the  poverty-stricken  ever  found  a  sympathizing  friend,  and 
if  none  of  the  rewards  which  the  ruling  faction  were  ready  to 
shower  on  the  Irishman  of  his  position  who  looked  to  the 
Castle  for  inspiration,  fell  to  his  share,  he  enjoyed  a  recom- 
pense more  precious  in  the  prayers  and  the  blessings  of  the 
poor.  The  steps  of  his  door  were  crowded  with  the  patients 
who  flocked  to  him  for  advice,  and  for  whom   he  prescribed 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


93 


gratuitously — not  without  some  reluctance,  however,  arising 
from  distrust  of  his  own  abilities,  and  unwillingness  to  interfere 
with  the  practice  of  the  regular  profession.  But  the  diffidence 
with  which  he  regarded  his  own  efforts  was  not  shared  by  the 
people  of  the  district.  Their  faith  in  his  professional  skill  was 
unbounded,  and  perhaps  the  confidence  which  they  felt  in  his 
power,  contributed  in  some  measure  to  the  success  that  at« 
tended  his  practice. 

In  1839  ^^-  Martin  sailed  from  Bristol  to  New  York,  and 
travelled  thence  to  the  extreme  west  of  Upper  Canada,  to  visit 
a  relative  who  had  settled  there.  On  that  occasion  he  was 
absent  from  Ireland  nearly  twelve  months,  and  during  his  stay 
in  America  he  made  some  tours  in  Canada  and  the  Northern 
States,  visiting  the  Falls,  Toronto,  Montreal,  Philadelphia, 
New  York,  Washington,  Pittsburg,  and  Cleveland.  In  1841 
he  made  a  brief  Continental  tour,  and  visited  the  chief  points 
of  attraction  along  the  Rhine.  During  this  time  Mr.  Martin's 
political  ideas  became  developed  and  expanded,  and  though 
like  Smith  O'Brien,  he  at  first  withheld  his  sympathies  from  the 
Repeal  agitation,  in  a  short  time  he  became  impressed  with 
the  justice  of  the  national  demand  for  independence.  His  re- 
tiring disposition  kept  him  from  appearing  very  prominently 
before  the  public  ;  but  the  value  of  his  adhesion  to  the  Repeal 
Association  was  felt  to  be  great  by  those  who  knew  his  upright- 
ness, his  disinterestedness,  and  his  ability. 

When  the  suicidal  policy  of  O'Connell  drove  the  Confederates 
from  Conciliation  Hall,  John  Martin  was  not  a  silent  spec- 
tator of  the  crisis,  and  in  consequence  of  the  manly  senti- 
ments he  expressed  with  referencce  to  the  treatment  to 
which  the  Young  Ireland  party  had  been  subjected,  he  ceased  to 
be  a  member  of  the  Association.  There  was  another  cause,  too, 
for  his  secession.  A  standing  taunt  in  the  mouth  of  the  Eng- 
lish press  was  that  O'Connell  pocketed  the  people's  money  and 
took  care  to  let  nobody  know  what  he  did  with  it.  To  put  an 
end  to  this  reproach  Mr.  Martin  asked  that  the  accounts  of  the 
Association  should   be  published.      "  Publish   the  accounts  T 


94 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


shrieked  the  well-paid  gang  that  marred  the  influence  and  traded 
in  the  politics  of  O'Connell :  ''  Monstrous !"  and  they  silenced 
the  troublesome  purist  by  suppressing  his  letters  and  expelling 
him  from  the  Association.  In  the  ranks  of  the  Confederates, 
however,  Martin  found  more  congenial  society ;  amongst  them 
he  found  men  as  earnest,  as  sincere,  and  as  single-minded  as 
himself,  and  by  them  the  full  worth  of  his  character  was  soon 
appreciated.  He  frequently  attended  their  meetings,  and  he  it 
was  who  filled  the  chair  during  the  prolonged  debates  that 
ended  with  the  temporary  withdrawal  of  Mitchel  from  the  Con- 
federation. When  the  United  Irishman  was  started  he  became 
a  contributor  to  its  columns,  and  he  continued  to  write  in  its 
pages  up  to  the  date  of  its  suppression,  and  the  conviction  of 
its  editor  and  proprietor. 

There  were  many  noble  and  excellent  qualities  which  the 
friends  of  John  Martin  knew  him  to  possess.  Rectitude  of 
principle,  abhorrence  of  injustice  and  intolerance,  deep  love  of 
country,  the  purity  and  earnestness  of  a  saint,  allied  with  the 
kindliness  and  inoffensiveness  of  childhood  ;  amiability  and 
disinterestedness,  together  with  a  perfect  abnegation  of  self, 
and  total  freedom  from  the  vanity  which  affected  a  few  of  his 
compatriots — these  they  gave  him  credit  for,  but  they  were  to- 
tally unprepared  for  the  lion-like  courage,  the  boldness,  and 
the  promptitude  displayed  by  him,  when  the  government,  by 
the  conviction  of  Mitchel,  flung  down  the  gauntlet  to  the  peo- 
ple of  Ireland.  Hastily  settling  up  his  worldly  accounts  in  the 
North,  he  returned  to  Dublin  to  stake  his  fortune  and  his  life 
in  the  cause  which  he  had  promised  to  serve.  The  United 
Irishman  was  gone,  but  Martin  had  undertaken  that  its  place 
in  Irish  journalism  should  not  be  vacant ;  and  a  few  weeks 
after  the  office  in  Trinty  Street  was  sacked  he  re-occupied  the 
violated  and  empty  rooms,  and  issued  therefrom  the  first  num- 
ber of  the  Irish  Felon,  There  was  no  halting  place  in  Irish 
journalism  then.  The  Nation  had  already  flung  peace  and  con- 
ciliation and  "balmy  forgiveness"  to  the  winds,  and  advocated 
the  creed  of  the  sword.     The  scandalous  means  used  to  pro. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


95 


cure  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  Mitchel  tore  to  tatters  the  last 
rag  of  the  constitution  in  Ireland.  It  was  idle  to  dictate  ob- 
servance of  the  law  which  the  government  themselves  were  en- 
gaged in  violating,  and  the  Nation  wd.s>  not  the  journal  to  brook 
the  tyranny  of  the  authorities.  With  a  spirit  that  cannot  be  too 
highly  praised,  it  called  for  the  overthrow  of  the  government 
that  had  sent  Mitchel  in  chains  into  banishment,  and  sum- 
moned the  people  of  Ireland  to  prepare  to  assert  their  rights 
by  the  only  means  now  left  them — the  bullet  and  the  pike. 
And  the  eyes  of  men  whose  hearts  were  "  weary  waiting  for 
for  the  fray,"  began  to  glisten  as  they  read  the  burning  words 
of  poetry  and  prose  in  which  the  Nation  preached  the  gospel 
of  liberty.  It  was  to  take  its  side  by  that  journal,  and  to  rival 
it  in  the  boldness  of  its  language  and  the  spirit  of  its  argu- 
ments, that  the  Irish  Felon  was  established  ;  and  it  executed 
its  mission  well.  ''  I  do  not  love  political  agitation  for  its  own 
sake,"  exclaimed  Martin,  in  his  opening  address  in  the  first 
number.  ^^  At  best  I  regard  it  as  a  necessary  evil ;  and  if  I 
were  not  convinced  that  my  countrymen  are  determined  on 
vindicating  their  rights,  and  that  they  really  intend  to  free 
themselves,  I  would  at  once  withdraw  from  the  struggle,  and 
leave  my  native  land  forever.  I  could  not  live  in  Ireland  and 
derive  my  means  of  life  as  a  member  of  the  Irish  community, 
without  feeling  a  citizen's  responsibilities  in  Irish  public  af- 
fairs. Those  responsibilities  involve  the  guilt  of  national  rob- 
bery and  murder — of  a  system  which  arrays  the  classes  of  our 
people  against  each  other's  prosperity  and  very  lives,  like 
beasts  of  prey,  or  rather  like  famishing  sailors  on  a  wreck — 
of  the  debasement  and  moral  ruin  of  a  people  endowed  by  God 
with  surpassing  resources  for  the  attainment  of  human  happiness 
and  human  dignity.  I  cannot  be  loyal  to  a  system  of  mean- 
ness, terror,  and  corruption,  although  it  usurp  the  title  and  as- 
sume the  form  of  a  'government.'  So  long  as  such  a  *  govern- 
ment' presumes  to  injure  and  insult  me,  and  those  in  whose 
prosperity  I  am  involved,  I  must  offer  to  it  all  the  resistance  in 
my  power.     But  if  I  despaired  of  successful  resistance,  I  would 


96 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCIC, 


certainly  remove  myself  from  under  such  a  *  government's'  ao 
tual  authority;  that  I  do  not  exile  myself  is  a  proof  that  I 
hope  to  witness  the  overthrow,  and  assist  in  the  overthrow,  of 
the  most  abominable  tyranny  the  world  now  groans  under — the 
British  Imperial  system.  To  gain  permission  for  the  Irish  peo- 
ple to  care  for  their  own  lives,  their  own  happiness  and  dig- 
nity— to  abolish  the  political  conditions  which  compel  the 
classes  of  our  people  to  hate  and  to  murder  each  other,  and 
which  compel  the  Irish  people  to  hate  the  very  name  of  the 
English — to  end  the  reign  of  fraud,  perjury,  corruption,  and 
'  government'  butchery,  and  to  make  law,  order,  and  peace 
possible  in  Ireland,  the  Irish  Felon  takes  its  place  amongst  the 
combatants  in  the  holy  war  now  waging  in  this  island  against 
foreign  tyranny.  In  conducting  it  my  weapons  shall  be — the 
truth,  the  zvhole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  so  help  me 
Godr 

Such  **  open  and  avowed  treason"  as  this  could  not  long  con- 
tinue to  be  published.  Before  the  third  number  of  the  Felon  saw 
the  light,  a  warrant  for  Mr.  Martin's  arrest  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  detectives,  and  its  fifth  was  its  last.  On  Saturday,  July  8th, 
Mr.  Martin  surrendered  himself  into  custody,  having  kept  out 
of  the  way  for  a  few  days  to  prevent  his  being  tried,  under  the 
''gagging  act,"  at  the  Commission  sitting  when  the  warrant  was 
issued,  and  which  adjourned  until  August — the  time  fixed  for 
the  insurrection — in  the  interim.  On  the  same  day,  Duffy, 
Williams,  and  O'Doherty  were  arrested.  Martin  was  impris- 
oned In  Newgate,  but  he  continued  to  write  from  within  his 
cell  for  the  Felon,  and  its  last  number,  published  on  July  22d, 
contains  a  spirited  letter  signed  with  his  initials,  which  formed 
portion  of  the  indictment  against  him  on  his  trial.  In  this  let- 
ter, Martin  calls  on  his  countrymen  in  impassioned  words  to 
*' stand  to  their  arms'."  "Let  them  menace  you,"  he  writes 
from  his  dungeon,  "  with  the  hulks  or  the  gibbet  for  daring  to 
speak  or  write  irour  love  to  Ireland.  Let  them  threaten  to 
mow  you  down  with  grape-shot,  as  they  massacred  your  kin* 
dred  with  famine  and  plague.    Spurn  their  brutal  '  Acts  of  Par 


SPEECHES  l^ROM   THE  DOCIC, 


97 


ifament* — trample  upon  their  lying  proclamations — fear  them 
not  !'• 

On  Tuesday,  August  15th,  John  Martin's  trial  commenced 
in  Green  Street  court-house,  the  indictment  being  for  treason- 
felony.  "  Several  of  his  tenantry,"  writes  the  special  corres- 
pondent of  the  London  Morniitg  Herald,  "■  came  up  to  town  to 
be  present  at  his  trial,  and,  as  they  hoped,  at  his  escape,  for 
they  could  not  bring  themselves  to  believe  that  a  man  so 
amiable,  so  gentle,  and  so  pious,  as  they  had  long  known  him, 
could  be" — this  is  the  Englishman's  way  of  putting  it — '*  an  in- 
citer to  bloodshed.  It  is  really  melancholy,"  added  the  writer, 
"to  hear  the  poor  people  of  the  neighborhood  of  Loughorne 
speak  of  their  benefactor.  He  was  ever  ready  to  administer 
medicine  and  advice  gratuitously  to  his  poor  neighbors  and  all 
who  sought  his  assistance  ;  and  according  to  the  reports  I  have 
received,  he  did  an  incalculable  amount  of  good  in  his  way. 
As  a  landlord  he  was  beloved  by  his  tenantry  for  his  kindness 
and  liberality,  while  from  his  suavity  of  manner  and  excellent 
qualities,  he  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  gentry  around  him." 

At  eight  o'clock,  p.m.,  on  Thursday,  August  17th,  the  jury 
came  into  court  with  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  the  prisoner, 
recommending  him  to  mercy  on  the  grounds  that  the  letter  on 
which  he  was  convicted  was  written  from  the  prison,  and  penned 
under  exciting  circumstances.  On  the  following  day,  Mr. 
Martin  was  brought  up  to  receive  sentence,  and  asked — after 
the  usual  form — whether  he  had  anything  to  say  against  the 
sentence  being  pronounced  ?  The  papers  of  the  time  state  that 
he  appeared  perfectly  unmoved  by  the  painful  position  in  which 
he  was  placed — that  he  looked  around  the  court-house  in  a 
calm,  composed,  dignified  manner  and  then  spoke  the  following 
reply  in  clear,  unfaltering  tones : — 

"  My  lords — I  have  no  imputation  to  cast  upon  the  bench,  r^ither 
have  I  anything  to  charge  the  jury  with,  of  unfairness  towards  me.  I 
think  the  judges  desired  to  do  their  duty  honestly,  as  upright  judges 
and  men  ;  and  that  the  twelve  men  who  were  put  into  the  box,  as  I 
believe,  not  to  try,  but  to  convict  me,  voted  honestly,  according  to 
their  prejudices.     1  have  no  personal  enmity  against  the  sheriff,  sub* 


98 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCIC. 


sheriff,  or  any  of  the  gentlemen  connected  with  the  arrangement  of  tht 
jurv-panel — nor  against  the  attorney-general,  nor  any  other  person 
engaged  in  the  proceedings  called  my  trial  ;  but,  my  lords,  I  consider 
that  I  have  not  been  yet  tried.  There  have  been  certain  formalities  car- 
ried on  here  for  three  days  regarding  me,  ending  in  a  verdict  of  guilty; 
but  I  have  not  been  put  upon  my  country,  as  the  constitution  said  to 
exist  in  Ireland  requires.  Twelve  of  my  countrymen,  '  indifferently 
chosen,'  have  not  been  put  into  that  jury-box  to  try  me,  but  twelve 
men  who,  I  believe,  have  been  selected  by  the  parties  who  represent 
the  crown,  for  the  purpose  of  convicting  and  not  of  trying  me.  I  be 
lieve  they  were  put  into  that  box  because  the  parties  conducting  the 
prosecution  knew  their  political  sentiments  were  hostile  to  mine,  and 
because  the  matter  at  issue  here  is  a  political  question — a  ipatter  of 
opinion,  and  not  a  matter  of  fact.  I  have  nothing  more  to  Sixy  as  to 
the  trial,  except  to  repeat  that,  having  watched  the  conduct  of  the 
judges,  I  consider  them  upright  and  honest  men.  I  have  this  to  add, 
i,hat  as  to  the  charge  I  make  with  respect  to  the  constitution  of  the 
panel  and  the  selection  of  the  jury,  I  have  no  legal  evidence  of  the 
truth  of  my  statement,  but  there  is  no  one  who  has  a  moral  doubt  of 
it.  Every  person  knows  that  what  I  Iiave  stated  is  the  fact ;  and  I 
would  represent  to  the  judges,  most  respectfully,  that  they,  as  up- 
right and  honorable  men,  and  judges,  and  as  citizens,  ought  to  see  that 
the  adminstration  of  justice  in  tliii  country  is  above  suspicion.  I  have 
nothing  more  to  say  with  regard  to  the  trial  ;  but  I  would  be  thank- 
ful to  the  court  for  permission  to  say  a  few  words  in  vindication  of 
my  character  and  motives  after  sentence  is  passed." 

Baron  Pennefather — "  No  ;  we  will  not  hear  anything  from  you 
after  sentence." 

Chief  Baron — '*We  cannot  hear  anything  from  you  after  sentence 
has  been  pronounced." 

Mr.  Martin — "  Then,  my  lords,  permit  me  to  say  that,  admitting  the 
narrow  and  confined  constitutional  doctrines  which  I  have  heard 
preached  in  this  court  to  be  right,  /  am  not  guitly  of  the  charge,  ac- 
cording to  this  act.  I  did  not  intend  to  devise  or  levy  war  against  the 
Queen,  or  to  depose  the  Queen.  In  the  article  of  mine  on  which  the 
jury  framed  their  verdict  of  guilty,  which  was  written  in  prison,  and 
published  in  the  last  number  of  my  paper,  what  I  desired  to  do  was 
this — to  advise  and  encourage  my  countrymen  to  keep  their  arms, 
because  that  is  their  inalienable  right,  which  no  act  of  Parliament,  no 
proclamation,  can  take  away  from  them.  It  is,  I  repeat,  their  inalien- 
able right.  I  advised  them  to  keep  their  arms  ;  and  further,  I  ad- 
vised them  to  use  their  arms  in  their  own  defence,  against  all  assail- 
ants— even  assailants  that  might  come  to  attack  them,  unconstitution- 
ally and  improperly  using  the  Queen's  name  as  their  sanction.  My 
object  in  all  my  proceedings  has  been  simply  to  assist  in  establishing 
^e  national  independence  of  Ireland,  for  the  benefit  of  all  the  peo' 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


99 


pie  of  If  eland — noblemen,  clergymen,  judges,  professional  men — in 
fact,  all  Irishmen.  I  have  sought  that  object :  first,  because  I  thoughr 
it  was  our  right — because  I  think  national  independence  is  the  right 
of  the  people  of  this  country  ;  and,  secondly,  I  admit  that,  being  a  man 
who  loves  retirement,  I  never  would  have  engaged  in  politics  did  I  not 
think  it  was  necessary  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  make  an  end  of  the 
horrible  scenes  that  this  country  presents — the  pauperism,  starvation, 
and  crime,  and  vice,  and  hatred  of  ail  classes  against  each  other.  I 
thought  there  should  be  an  end  to  that  horrible  system,  which,  while 
it  lasted,  gave  me  no  peace  of  mind  ;  for  I  could  not  enjoy  anything 
in  my  native  country  so  long  as  I  saw  my  countrymen  forced  to  be 
vicious — forced  to  hate  each  other — and  degraded  to  the  level  of 
paupers  and  brutes.  That  is  the  reason  I  engaged  in  politics.  I 
acknowledge,  as  the  Solicitor-General  has  said,  that  I  was  but  a  weak 
assailant  of  the  English  power.  I  am  not  a  good  writer,  and  I  am  no 
orator.  I  had  only  two  weeks'  experience  in  conducting  a  newspaper, 
until  I  was  put  into  jail ;  but  I  am  satisfied  to  direct  the  intention  of 
my  countrymen  to  everything  I  have  written  and  said,  and  to  rest  my 
character  on  a  fair  and  candid  examination  of  what  I  have  put  for- 
ward as  my  opinions.  I  shall  say  nothing  in  vindication  of  my  motives 
but  this — that  every  fair  and  honest  man,  no  matter  how  prejudiced  he 
maybe,  if  he  calmly  considers  what  I  have  written  and  said,  will  be 
satisfied  that  my  motives  were  pure  and  honorable.  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say." 

Then  the  judge  proceeded  to  pass  sentence.  In  the  course 
of  his  remarks  he  referred  to  the  recommendation  to  mercy 
which  came  from  the  jury,  whereupon  Mr.  Martin  broke  in  : 
"I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  condescend 
to  accept  '  mercy,'  where  I  believe  I  have  been  morally  right  ; 
I  want  justice — not  mercy."     But  he  looked  for  it  in  vain. 

"  Transportation  for  ten  years  beyond  the  seas,"  is  spoken  by 
the  lips  of  the  judge,  and  the  burlesque  of  justice  is  at  an  end. 
Mr.  Martin  heard  the  sentence  with  perfect  composure  and 
self-possession,  though  the  faces  of  his  brothers  cind  friends  stand- 
ing by,  showed  signs  of  the  deepest  emotion.  *'  Remove  the 
prisoner,"  were  the  next  words  uttered,  and  then  John  Martin, 
the  pure-minded,  the  high-souled,  and  the  good,  was  borne  off  to 
the  convict's  cell  in  Newgate. 

Amongst  the  friends  who  clustered  round  the  dock  in  which 
the  patriot  leader  stood,  and  watched  the  progress  of  his  trial 


lOO  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

with  beating  hearts,  was  Mr.  James  Martin,  one  of  the   priso- 
ner's brothers.     During  the  three  long  weary  days  occupied  by 
the  trial,  his  post  had  been  by  his  brother's  side  listening  to  the 
proceedings  with  the  anxiety  and  solicitude  which  a  brother 
alone  can  feel,  and  revealing  by  every  line  of  his  countenance 
the  absorbing  interest  with  which  he  regarded  the  issue.     The 
verdict  of  the  jury  fell  upon  him  with  the  bewildering  shock  of 
ar.  avalanche.     He  was  stunned,  stupefied,  amazed  ;  he  could 
hardly  believe  that  he  had  heard  the  fatal  words  aright,  and 
that  "  guilty"  had  been   the  verdict    returned.     He  guilty  !  he 
whose  life  was  studded  by  good  deeds,  as  stars  stud  the  wintry 
sky ;  Jie  guilty,  whose  kindly  heart  had  always  a  throb  for  the 
suffering  and  the  unfortunate,  whose  hand  was  ever  extended 
to  shield  the  oppressed,  to  succor  the  friendless,  and  to  shelter 
the  homeless  and  the  needy;  Jic  "  inspired  by  the  devil,"  whose 
career  had  been  devoted  to  an  attempt  to  redress  the  sufferings 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  whose  sole  object   in  life  seemed 
to  be  to  abridge  the  sufferings  of  the  Irish  people,  to  plant  the 
doctrines  of  peace  and  good-will  in  every  heart,  and  to  make 
Ireland  the  home  of  harmony  and  concord,  by  rendering  her 
prosperous  and  free.     It  was  a  lie,  a  calumny,  a  brutal  fabrica- 
tion !     It   was  more  than  his  sense  of  justice  could   endure,  it 
was  more  than  his  hot  Northern  blood  could  tolerate.     Beckon- 
ing a  friend,  he  rushed  with  him  into  the  street,  and  drove  di- 
rect to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Waterhouse,  the    foreman  of  the 
jury.     The  latter  had  barely  returned  from  court,  when  he  was 
waited    upon   by   Mr.   Martin,   Vv^ho    indignantly  charged    him 
with  having  bullied  the  jury  into  recording  a  verdict  of  guilty 
— an  accusation  which  current  report  made  against  him — and 
challenged  the  astonished   juryman    to  mortal    combat.       Mr. 
Waterhouse  was  horror-struck    by  the  proposal,  to  which  he 
gasped  out  in  response,  a  threat  to  call  in  the  police.     He  never 
heard  of  anything  so   terribly  audacious.     He,  a   loyal   Castle 
tradesman,  who  had  "  well  and  truly"  tried  the  case  according 
to  the  recognized  acceptance  of  the  words,  and  who  had  ''  true 
deliverance  made"  after  the  fashion  in  favor  with  the  crown ; 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  lOi 

he  whose  ''  perspicuity,  wisdom,  impartiality,"  etc.,  had  been 
appealed  to  and  belauded  so  often  by  the  Attorney-General, 
to  be  challenged  to  a  hostile  meeting,  which  might  end  by 
leaving  a  bullet  lodged  in  his  invaluable  body.  The  bare  idea 
of  it  fairly  took  his  breath  away,  and  with  the  terrible  vision 
of  pistols  and  bloodshed  before  his  mind,  he  rushed  to  the  po- 
lice office  and  had  his  indignant  visitor  arrested.  On  entering 
the  Green  Street  court-house  next  day,  Mr.  Waterhouse  told 
his  woful  story  to  the  judge.  The  judge  was  appalled  by  the 
disclosure ;  Mr.  Martin  was  brought  before  him  and  sentenced 
to  a  month's  imprisonment,  besides  being  bound  over  to  keep 
the  peace  towards  Mr.  Waterhouse  and  every  one  else  for  a 
period  of  seven  years. 

A  short  time  after  Mr.  John  Martin's  conviction,  he  and  Ke- 
vin Izod  O'Doherty  were  shipped  off  to  Van  Dicmen's  Land 
on  board  the  "  Elphinstone,"  where  they  arrived  in  the  month 
of  November,  1849.  O'Brien,  Meagher,  MacManus,  and 
O'Donoghue  had  arrived  at  the  same  destination  a  few  days 
before.  Mr.  Martin  resided  in  the  district  assigned  to  him  un- 
il  the  year  1854,  when  a  pardon,  on  the  condition  of  their  not 
returning  to  Ireland  or  Great  Britain  was  granted  to  himself, 
O'Brien,  and  O'Doherty,  the  only  political  prisoners  in  the 
country  at  that  time — MacManus,  Meagher,  O'Donoghue,  and 
Mitchel  having  previously  escaped.  Mr.  O'Brien  and  Mr. 
Martin  sailed  together  in  the  "Norma"  from  Melbourne  for 
Ceylon,  at  which  port  they  parted,  Mr.  O'Brien  turning  north- 
ward to  Madras,  while  Mr.  Martin  came  on  via  Aden,  Cairo, 
Alexandria,  Malta,  and  Marseilles,  to  Paris  where  he  arrived 
about  the  end  of  October,  1854.  In  June,  1856,  the  govern- 
ment made  the  pardon  of  Messrs.  Martin,  O'Brien,  and 
O'Doherty,  unconditional,  and  Mr.  Martin  then  hastened  to 
pay  a  visit  to  his  family,  from  whom  he  had  heen  separated 
during  eight  years.  After  a  stay  of  a  few  months  he  went  back 
to  Paris,  intending  to  reside  abroad  during  the  remainder  of 
his  life,  because  he  could  not  voluntarily  live  under  English 
rule  in  Ireland.     But  the  death  of  a  near  and  dear  member  of 


102  SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 

his  family,  in  October,  1858,  imposed  on  him  duties  which  he 
could  only  discharge  by  residence  in  his  own  home,  and  com* 
pelled  him  to  terminate  his  exile.  Living  since  then  in  his 
own  land,  he  has  taken  care  to  renew  and  continue  his  protest 
against  the  domination  of  England  in  Ireland.  In  January, 
1864,  acting  on  the  suggestion  of  many  well-known  nationalists, 
he  established  in  Dublin  a  Repeal  Association  called  the  "  Na- 
tional League."  The  peculiar  condition  of  Irish  politics  at  the 
time  was  unfavorable  to  any  large  extension  of  the  society ; 
but  notwithstanding  the  circumstance,  the  League  by  its  meet- 
ings and  its  publications  rendered  good  service  to  the  cause  of 
Irish  freedom.  Mr.  Martin  has  seen  many  who  once  were  loud 
and  earnest  in  their  professions  of  patriotism  lose  heart  and 
grow  cold  in  the  service  of  their  couniy,  but  he  does  not 
weary  of  the  good  work.  Patiently  and  zealously  he  still 
continues  to  labor  in  the  national  cause  ;  his  mission  is  not 
ended  yet ;  and  with  a  constancy  which  lapse  of  years  and  change 
of  scene  have  not  affected,  he  still  clings  to  the  hope  of  Ire- 
land's regeneration,  and  with  voice  and  pen  supports  the  princi- 
ples of  patriotism  for  which  he  suffered.  The  debt  that  Ireland 
owes  to  him  will  not  easily  be  acquitted,  and  if  the  bulk  of  his 
co-religionists  are  no  longer  to  be  found  within  the  national 
camp,  we  can  almost  forgive  them  their  shortcomings,  when 
we  remember  that,  within  our  own  generation,  the  Presbyteri- 
ans of  Ulster  have  given  to  Ireland  two  such  men  as  John 
Martin  and  John  Mitchel. 

Mr.  Martin's  name  will  reappear  farther  on,  in  another  por- 
tion of  this  work,  for  the  occasion  of  which  we  have  here  treated 
was  not  the  only  one  on  which  his  patriotic  words  and  actions 
brought  upon  him  the  attention  of  "  the  authorities,"  and  sub 
jected  him  to  the  troubles  of  a  state  prosecution. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,    '  103 


W.S.  O'BRIEN. 


jOUDLY  across  the  dark  flowing  tide  of  the  Liffey, 
rolled  the  cheers  of  welcome  and  rejoicing  that  burst 
from  Conciliation  Hall  on  that  memorable  day  in  Jan- 
uary, '44,  when  William  Smith  O'Brien  first  stood  be- 
neath its  roof,  and  presided  over  a  meeting  of  Re- 
pealers.    Many  a  time  had  the  walls  of  that  historic  building 
given  back  the  cheers  of  the  thousands  who  gathered  there  to 
revel  in  the  promises  of  the  Liberator ;  many  a  time  had  they 
vibrated  to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Irishmen  who  met  there  to 
celebrate  the    progress  of  the  movement  which  was   to  give 
freedom  and  prosperity  to  Ireland  ;  but  not  even  in  those  days 
of  monster  meetings  and  popular  demonstrations  had  a  warmer 
glow  of  satisfaction  flushed  the  face  of  O'Connell,  than  when 
the  descendant  of  the  Munster  kings  took  his  place  amongst 
Dublin    Repealers.      ''  1    find    it    impossible,"    exclaimed    the 
great  Tribune,   ''  to  give  adequate  expression   to   the  delight 
with  which  I  hail  Mr.  O'Brien's  presence  in  the  Association. 
He  now  occupies  his  natural  position — the  position  which  cen- 
turies ago  was   occupied   by  his  ancestor,  Brain    Boru.     What- 
ever may  become  of  me,  it  is  a  consolation  to  remember  that 
Ireland  will   not   be   without  a  friend,  such   as  William    Smith 
O'Brien,  who   combining   all    the  modern    endowments    of    a 
high-cultured  mind,  with  intellectual  gifts  of  the  highest  order, 
nervous  eloquence,  untiring  energy,  fervid  love  of  country,  and 
every  other  high  qualification  of  a  popular  leader,  is  now  where 
his  friends  would   ever  wish   to   see   him — at   the   head  of  the 
Irish  people."     Six  weeks  before,  a  banquet  had  been  given  in 
Limerick  to  celebrate  O'Brien's  adhesion  to  the  national  cause, 
and  on  this  occasion,  too,  O'Connell  bore  generous  testimony 
to  the  value  and  importance  of  his  accession.    "  His  presence," 
said   the    Emancipator,    in    proposing    Mr.    O'Brien's    health, 
"  cannot  prevent  me  here  from  expressing  on  behalf  of  the  uni* 


104 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


versal  people  of  Ireland,  their  admiration  and  delight  at  hii 
conversion  to  their  cause.  Receive  the  benefactor  of  Ireland, 
as  such  a  benefactor  should  be  received.  It  is  certain  that  our 
country  will  never  be  deserted  as  long  as  she  has  William 
Smith  O'Brien  as  one  of  her  leaders." 

There  was  much  to  account  for  the  tumult  of  rejoicing  which 
hailed  Smith  O'Brien's  entry  within  the  ranks  of  the  popular 
party.  His  lineage,  his  position,  his  influence,  his  stainless 
character,  his  abilities,  and  his  worth,  combined  to  fit  him  for 
the  place  which  O'Connell  assigned  him,  and  to  rally  round 
him  the  affection  and  allegiance  of  the  Irish  people.  No  mon- 
arch in  the  world  could  trace  his  descent  from  a  longer  line  of 
illustrious  men;  beside  the  roll  of  ancestry  to  which  he  could 
point,  the  oldest  of  European  dynasties  were  things  of  a  day. 
When  the  towering  Pyramids  that  overlook  the  Nile  were  still 
new ,  before  the  Homeric  ballads  had  yet  been  chanted  in  the 
streets  of  an  Eastern  city;  before  the  foundations  of  the  Par- 
thenon were  laid  on  the  Acropolis;  before  the  wandering  sons 
of  ^neas  found  a  home  in  the  valley  of  the  Tiber,  the  chief- 
tains of  his  house  enjoyed  the  conqueror's  fame,  and  his  ancesi 
tors  swayed  the  sceptre  of  Erie.  Nor  was  he  unworthy  of  the 
name  and  the  fame  of  the  O'Briens  of  Kincora.  Clear-sighted 
and  discerning;  deeply  endowed  with  calm  sagacity  and  pene- 
trating observance ;  pure-minded,  eloquent,  talented,  and  chiv- 
alrous ;  he  comprised  within  his  nature  the  truest  elements  of 
the  patriot,  the  scholar,  and  the  statesman.  Unfaltering  at- 
tachment to  the  principles  of  justice,  unswerving  obedience  to 
the  dictates  of  honor,  unalterable  loyalty  to  rectitude  and 
duty;  these  were  the  characteristics  that  distinguished  him; 
and  these  were  the  qualities  that  cast  their  redeeming  light 
round  his  failings  and  his  errors,  and  wrung  from  the  bitterest 
of  his  foes  the  tribute  due  to  suffering  worth.  If  nobility  of 
soul,  if  earnestness  of  heart,  and  singleness  of  purpose,  if 
unflinching  and  self-sacrificing  patriotism,  allied  to  zeal,  cour- 
age, and  ability,  could  have  redeemed  the  Irish  cause,  it  would 
not  be  left  to  us  to  mourn  for  it  to-day ;  and  instead  of  the 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


105 


melancholy  story  we  have  now  to  relate,  it  might  be  given  to 
us  to  chronicle  the  regeneration  of  the  Irish  nation. 

William  Smith  O'Brien  was  born  at  Dromoland,  county 
Clare,  on  the  17th  of  October,  1803.  He  was  the  second  son  of 
Sir  Edward  O'Brien,  and  on  the  death  of  his  kinsman,  the  last 
Marquis  of  Thomond,  his  eldest  brother  became  Baron  of 
Inchiquin.  He  was  educated  at  Harrow  and  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge;  but  his  English  education,  however  much  it 
might  have  colored  his  views  during  boyhood,  did  not  seriously 
affect  his  innate  love  of  justice,  or  warp  the  patriotic  feelings 
which  were  developed  in  his  earliest  years  The  associations 
into  which  he  was  cast,  the  tone  of  the  society  in  which  he 
moved,  the  politics  of  his  family,  and  the  modern  traditions 
of  his  house,  combined  to  throw  him  into  the  ranks  of  the 
people's  enemies;  and  that  these  influences  were  not  alto- 
gether barren  of  results  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  O'Brien  en- 
tered  Parliament  in  1826  as  an  anti-Repealer,  and  exerted 
himself  to  prevent  the  return  of  O'Connell  at  the  memorable 
election  for  Clare.  But  O'Brien  was  no  factious  opponent  of 
the  national  interests  ;  even  while  he  acted  thus,  he  had  the 
welfare  of  his  country  sincerely  at  heart ;  he  steered  according 
to  his  lights,  and  when  time  and  experience  showed  the  false* 
ness  of  his  views,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  renounce  them.  To 
this  period  of  his  political  career  Mr.  O'Brien  often  adverted  in 
after  life,  with  the  frankness  and  candor  that  distinguished 
him.  "  When  the  proposal  to  seek  for  a  Repeal  of  the  act  of 
Union  was  first  seriously  entertained,"  said  O'Brien,  ''  I  used 
all  the  influence  I  possessed  to  discountenance  the  attempt.  I 
did  not  consider  that  the  circumstances  and  prospects  of  Ire- 
land then  justified  the  agitation  of  this  question.  Catholic 
Emancipation  had  been  recently  achieved,  and  I  sincerely  be- 
lieved that  from  that  epoch  a  new  course  of  policy  would  be 
adopted  towards  Ireland.  I  persuaded  myself  that  thenceforth 
the  statesmen  of  Great  Britain  would  spare  no  effort  to  repair 
the  evils  produced  by  centuries  of  misgovernment — that  the  Cath- 
olic and  Protestant  would  be  admitted  to  share  on  equal  terms 


I06  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

in  all  the  advantages  resulting  from  our  constitutional  form  o! 
government — that  all  traces  of  an  ascendency  of  race  or  creed 
would  be  effaced — that  the  institutions  of  Ireland  would  be  grad. 
ually  moulded  so  as  to  harmonize  with  the  opinions  of  its  in- 
habitants,  and  that  in  regard  of  political  rights,  legislation  for 
both  kingdoms  would  be  based  upon  the  principle  of  perfect 
equality." 

Fourteen  years  had  elapsed  from  the  date  of  Catholic  Eman- 
cipation, when  O'Brien  startled  the  aristocrats  of  Ireland  by 
renouncing  his  allegiance  to  their  party,  and  throwing  himself 
heart  and  soul  into  the  vanguard  of  the  people.  He  told  his 
reasons  for  the  change  in  bold,  convincing  words.  He  had  seen 
that  his  expectations  of  justice  were  false  and  delusive.  **  The 
feelings  of  the  Irish  nation,"  he  said,  "  have  been  exasperated 
by  every  species  of  irritation  and  insult  ;  every  proposal  tending 
to  develop  the  sources  of  our  industry — to  raise  the  character 
and  improve  the  condition  of  our  population,  has  been  dis- 
countenanced, distorted,  or  rejected.  Ireland,  instead  of  taking 
its  place  as  an  integral  portion  of  the  great  empire,  which  the 
valor  of  her  sons  has  contributed  to  win,  has  been  treated  as  a 
dependent  tributary  province ;  and  at  this  moment,  after  forty- 
three  years  of  nominal  union,  the  affections  of  the  two  nations 
are  so  entirely  alienated  from  each  other,  that  England  trusts 
for  the  maintenance  of  their  connection,  not  to  the  attachment 
of  the  Irish  people,  but  to  the  bayonets  which  menace  our 
bosoms,  and  the  cannon  which  she  has  planted  in  all  our 
strongholds." 

The  prospects  of  the  Repeal  movement  were  not  at  their 
brightest  when  O'Brien  entered  Conciliation  Hall.  In  Eng- 
land, and  in  Ireland,  too,  the  influence  of  O'Connell  was  on 
the  wane,  and  with  the  dispersion  of  the  multitudes  that 
flocked  on  that  Sunday  morning  in  October,  1843,  to  listen  to 
the  Liberator  on  the  plains  of  Clontarf,  the  peaceful  policy 
which  he  advocated  received  its  death-blow.  Over  O'Connell 
himself,  and  some  of  the  most  outspoken  of  his  associates,  a 
state  prosecution  was  impending ;  and  the  arm  of  the  govern- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


107 


ment  was  already  stretched  out  to  crush  the  agitation  whose 
object  they  detested,  and  whose  strength  they  had  begun  to 
fear.  The  accession  of  O'Brien,  however,  the  prestige  of  his 
name,  and  the  influence  of  his  example,  was  expected  to  do 
much  towards  reviving  the  drooping  fortunes  of  the  Association. 
Nor  was  the  anticipation  illusory.  From  the  day  on  which 
O'Brien  became  a  Repealer,  down  to  the  date  of  the  secession 
the  strongest  prop  of  the  Conciliation  Hall  was  his  presence 
and  support ;  he  failed  indeed  to  counteract  the  corrupt  in- 
fluences that  gnawed  at  the  vitals  of  the  Association  and 
ultimately  destroyed  it;  but  while  he  remained  within  its  ranks, 
the  redeeming  influence  of  his  genius,  his  patriotism,  and  his 
worth,  preserved  it  from  the  extinction  towards  which  it  was 
hastening. 

At  an  early  date  the  penetrating  mind  of  O'Brien  detected 
the  existence  of  the  evil  which  was  afterwards  to  transform 
Conciliation  Hall  into  a  market  for  place-hunters.  **  I  ap- 
prehend," said  he,  in  a  remarkable  speech  delivered  in  January, 
'46,  '*  more  danger  to  Repeal  from  the  subtle  influence  of  a 
Whig  administration,  than  from  the  coercive  measures  of 
the  Tories."  And  he  was  right.  Day  by  day,  the  subtle  in- 
fluence which  he  dreaded  did  its  blighting  work ;  and  the  suc- 
cess of  those  who  sought  the  destruction  of  the  Repeal  Associa- 
tion through  the  machinery  of  bribes  and  places  was  already 
apparent,  when,  on  the  27th  of  July,  1846,  O'Brien,  accompanied 
by  Mitchel,  Meagher,  Duffy,  and  others  arose  in  sorrow  and 
indignation,  and  quitted  the  Conciliation  Hall  forever. 

Six  months  later  the  Irish  Confederation  held  its  first  meet- 
ing in  the  Round  Room  of  the  Rotundo.  Meagher,  Mitchel, 
Doheny,  O'Brien,  O'Gorman,  Martin,  and  M'Gee  were  amongst 
the  speakers  ;  and  amidst  the  ringing  cheers  of  the  densely- 
thronged  meeting,  the  establishment  was  decreed  of  the  Irish 
Confederation,  for  the  purpose — as  the  resolution  declared — 
"of  protecting  our  national  interests,  and  obtaining  the  Legis- 
lative independence  of  Ireland  by  the  force  of  opinion,  by  the 
combination  of  all  classes  of  Irishmen,  and  by  the  exercise  ol 


I08  SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 

all  the  political,  social,  and  moral  influence  within  our  reach." 
It  will  be  seen  that  the  means  by  which  the  Confederates  pro- 
posed to  gain  their  object,  did  not  differ  materially  from  the 
programme  of  the  Repeal  Association.     But  there    was    this 
distinction.     Against  place-hunting,  and  everything    savoring 
of  trafficking  with  the  government,  the  Confederates  resolutely 
set  their  faces;  and  in  the  next  place,  while  prescribing  to  them- 
selves nothing  but  peaceful  and  legal  means  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  their  object,  they  scouted  the  ridiculous  doctrine,  that 
^'liberty  was  not  worth  the  shedding  of  a  single  drop  of  blood  ;'* 
and  that  circumstances  might  arise  under  which  resort  to   the 
arbitration  of  the  sword  would  be  righteous  and  justifiable.     In 
time,  however,  the  Confederates   took  up  a  bolder  and   more 
dangerous  position.     As  early  as  May,  1856,  Lord  John  Russell 
spoke  of  the  men  who  wrote  in  the  pages  of   the  Nation^  and 
who  subsequently  became  the  leaders  of  the  Confederation,  "as 
a  party  looking  to  disturbance  as  its  means,  and  having  separa- 
tion from  England  as  its   object."     The   description  was   false 
at    the  time,  but  before  two  years  had   elapsed,  its    applica- 
tion   became    more    accurate.      A    few    men    there  were,  like 
Mitchel,  who,  from  the  birth  of  the  Confederation,  and  perhaps 
before   it,  abandoned   all   expectation    of  redress  through  the 
medium  of  constitutional  agitation;  but   it  was  not  until  the 
flames  of  revolution  had  wrapped  the  nations  of  the  Continent 
in  their  fiery  folds — until  the  barricades  were  up  in  every  capital 
from  Madrid  to  Vienna — and  until  the  student's  song  of  freedom 
was  mingled  with  the  psean  of  victory  on  many  a  field  of  death 
— that  the  hearts  of  the  Irish  Confederates  caught  the  flame, 
and  that  revolution,  and  revolution  alone,  became  the  goal  of 
their  endeavors.     When  Mitchel  withdrew  from  the  Confedera- 
tion in    March,    1848,   the    principles   of    constitutional  action 
were  still  in  the  ascendency  ;  when  he  rejoined  it  a  month  later 
the  cry  ''  to    the  registries,"  was  superseded  by  fiery  appeals 
summoning  the  people  to  arms.     In  the  first  week  of  April,  the 
doctrine  which    John    Mitchel   had    long   been    propounding, 
found  expression   in   the  leading   columns  of   the  Nation:—* 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  IO9 

"Ireland's   necessity,"    said    Duffy,    "demands  the   desperate 
remedy    of   revolution."     A    few   weeks    later,    the    same    de- 
claration  was  made  in  the  very  citadel  of  the  enemy's  power. 
It  was  O'Brien  who  spoke,  and  his  audience  was  the  British 
House  of  Commons.     With  Messrs.  Meagher  and  Hollywood, 
he  had  visited  Paris  to  present  an  address  of  congratulation  on 
behalf  of  the  Irish    people    to    the  Republican    government ; 
and   on  taking  his  seat    in    the  House  of  Commons  after  his 
return,   he    found  himself   charged    by   the   ministers   of   the 
Crown,  with    having  gone  to  solict  armed    intervention    from 
France  on  behalf  of  the  disaffected  people  of  Ireland.    O'Brien  re- 
plied in  a  speech  such  as  never  was  heard  before  or  since  within 
the  walls  of  the  House  of  Commons.    In  the  midst  of  indescrib. 
able  excitement  and  consternat-'on,  he  proceeded  to  declare  in 
calm,  deliberative  accents—''  that  if  he  was  to  be  arraigned  as  a 
criminal,  he  would  gladly  endure  the  most  ignominious  death 
that  could  be  inflicted  on  him  rather  than  witness  the  sufferings 
and    indignities  he  had  seen  inflicted   by  the    British  legisla, 
ture  on  his  countrymen.      If  it  is  treason,"  he  exclaimed,  ''  to 
profess  disloyalty   to  this   House,   and  to  the  government  of 
Ireland,  by  the  Parliament  of  Great  Britain—if  that  be  treason, 
I    avow    it.     Nay,  more,  I  say  it   shall  be  the  study  of  my  life 
to  overthrow  the  dominion  of  this   Parliament  over  Ireland." 
The   yells  and  shouts  with  which  these  announcements  were 
received  shook  the  building   in  which  he  stood,  and  obliged 
him  to  remain  sile  nt  for  several  moments  after  the  delivery  of 
each  sentence  ,    but   when    the  uproar  began  to  subside    the 
ringing  tones  of  O'Brien  rose  again  upon  the  air,  and  with  the 
stoicism  of  a  martyr,  and  the  imperturbable  courage  of  a  hero,  he 
proceeded.       "  Irish    Freedom,"    he  said,    ''  must  be  won  by 
Irish  courage.     Every  statesman  in   the   civilized  globe  looks 
upon  Ireland  as  you  look  upon  Poland,  and  upon  your  connec- 
tion  as  entirelv  analogous  to  that   of   Russia  with  Poland.     I 
am  here  to-night  to  tell  you,  that  if  you  refuse  our  claims  to 
legislative  independence,  you  will  have  to  encounter  during  the 
present  year,  the  chance  of  a  Republic  in  Ireland." 


I IQ  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

O'Brien  returned  to  Ireland  more  endeared  than  ever  to  thi 
hearts    of   his    countrymen.      And  now  the    game   was  fairly 
afoot.     Government  and  people  vied  each  other  with  steady 
and  defiant  glare,  and  girded  up  their  loins  for  the  struggle. 
On  the    one  side,  the  Confederate  clubs  were  organized  with 
earnestness  and  vigor,  and  the  spirit  of  the  people  awakened 
by  a  succession  of  stirring  and  glowing  appeals.     ''  What  if  we 
fail?"  asked  the  Nation;  and  it  answered  the  question  by  de- 
claring unsuccessful  resistance  under  the  circumstances  prefer- 
able to  a  degrading  submission.      "  What  if  we  dont  fail  ?"  was 
its  next  inquiry,  and  the  answer  was  well  calculated  to  arouse 
the  patriots  of  Ireland  to  action.     On  the  other  hand,  the  au- 
thorities were  not  idle.     Arm's  bills,  coercion  acts,  and   prose- 
cutions followed   each  other  in  quick  succession.     Mitchelwas 
arrested,    convicted,  and    sent    to    Bermuda.     Duffy,    Martin, 
Meagher,  Doheny,  O'Doherty,  and  M'Gee  were  arrested — all  of 
whom,  except  Duffy  and   Martin,  were  shortly  afterwards  lib- 
erated.    Duffy's  trial  was  fixed  for  August,  and  this  was  the 
time  appointed  by  the  Confederates  for  the  outbreak  of  the  in- 
surrection.    There  were  some  who   advocated  a  more  prompt 
mode    of    action.     At  a  meeting  of  the  Confederates  held  on 
July  19th,  after  the  greater  portion  of  the  country  had  been 
proclaimed,  it  was  warmly  debated  whether  an  immediate  ap- 
peal   to  arms  should  not  be  counselled.     O'Brien  and  Dillon 
advocated  delay ,  the  harvest  had  not  yet  been  reaped  in ;  the 
clubs  were  not  sufficiently   organized   throughout   the  country, 
and  the  people  might  easily  conceal  their  arms  until  the  hour 
arrived  for  striking  a  decisive  blow.     Against  this  policy  a  few 
of  the  more  impetuous  members  protested.     ''You  will  wait,'* 
exclaimed  Joe  Brennan,  "  until  you  get  arms  from  heaven,  and 
angels  to  pull  the  triggers."     But   his  advice  was  disregarded ; 
and  the  meeting  broke  up  with  the  understanding  that  with  the 
first  glance  of  the  harvest  sun,  the  fires  of  insurrection  were  to 
blaze  upon  the  hill-tops  of  Ireland,  and  that  meanwhile  organ- 
ization  and  preparation  were   to  engross  the  attention  of  the 
leaders.     On  Friday,  July  21st,  a  war  directory — consisting  o£ 


SPEECHES  FROM   TUE  DOCK,  \\\ 

liillon,  Reilly,  O'Gorman,  Meagher,  and  Father  Kenyon  was 
appointed  ;  and  on  the  following  morning  O'Gorman  started 
for  Limerick,  Doheny  for  Cashel,  and  O'Brien  for  Wexford, 
to  prepare  the  people  for  the  outbreak. 

It  was  war  to  the  knife,  and  every  one  knew  it.  The  forces 
of  the  government  in  Ireland  were  hourly  increased  in  Dublin — 
every  available  and  commanding  position  was  occupied  and  for- 
tified.^  "In  the  Bank  of  Ireland,"  says  one  who  watched  the 
progress  of  affairs  with  attentive  gaze,  "  soldiers  as  well  as 
cashiers  were  ready  to  settle  up  accounts.  The  youngs  artists 
of  the  Royal  Hibernian  Academy  and  Royal  Dublin  Society 
had  to  quit  their  easels  to  make  way  for  the  garrison.  The 
squares  of  old  Trinity  College  resounded  with  the  tramp  of 
daily  reviews ;  the  Custom  House  at  last  received  some  occu. 
pation  by  being  turned  into  a  camp.  The  Linen  Hall,  the  Ro- 
tundo,  Holmes'  Hotel,  Alborough  House,  Dycer's  stables,  in 
Stephen's  Green — every  institution,  literary,  artistic,  and  com- 
mercial, was  confiscated  to  powder  and  pipe-clay.  The  bar- 
racks were  provisioned  as  if  for  a  siege ;  cavalry  horses  were 
shod  with  plates  of  steel,  to  prevent  their  being  injured  and 
thrown  into  disorder  by  broken  bottles,  iron  spikes,  or  the  like; 
and  the  infantry  were  occupied  in  familarizing  themselves  with 
the  art  of  fusilading  footpaths  and  thoroughfares.  Arms  were 
taken  from  the  people,  and  the  houses  of  loyal  families  stocked 
with  the  implements  of  war.'* 

But  the  national  leaders  had  calculated  on  the  preparations 
of  the  government ;  they  knew  the  full  measure  of  its  military 
power,  and  were  not  afraid  to  face  it ;  but  there  was  one  blow 
which  they  had  not  foreseen,  and  which  came  on  them  with  the 
shock  of  a  thunderbolt.  On  the  very  morning  that  O'Brien 
left  for  Wexford,  the  news  reached  Dublin  that  a  warrant  had 
been  issued  for  his  arrest,  and  that  the  suspension  of  the  ha- 
beas corpus  act  was  resolved  on  by  the  government.  ''It  ap- 
pears strangely  unaccountable  to  me,"  was  Meagher's  reflec- 
tion in  after  years,  "that  whilst  a  consideration  of  our  posi- 
tion, our  project,  and  our  resources  was  taking  place,  whilst  thf 


J  12  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

stormy  future  on  which  we  were  entering  formed  the  subject  ol 
the  most  anxious  conjecture,  and  the  danger  of  it  fell  like  win« 
try  shadow  around  us  ;  it  seems  strangely  unaccountable  to  me 
that  not  an  eye  was  turned  to  the  facilities  for  the  counterac- 
tion of  our  designs  which  the  government  had  at  their  disposal ; 
that  not  a  word  was  uttered  in  anticipation  of  that  bold,  astound- 
ing measure — the  suspension  of  the  habeas  corpus  act — the  an- 
nouncement of  which  broke  upon  us  so  suddenly.  The  overlook- 
ing of  it  was  a  fatal  inadvertence.  Owing  to  it  we  were  routed 
without  a  struggle,  and  were  led  into  captivity  without  glory. 
We  suffer  not  for  a  rebellion,  but  a  blunder." 

The  few  of  the  Confederate  leaders  at  large  in  Dublin  at  the 
time — Duffy,  Martin,  Williams,  and  O'Doherty  were  in  New* 
gate — held  a  hurried  council,  and  their  plans  were  speedily 
formed.  They  were  to  join  Smith  O'Brien  at  once,  and  com- 
mence the  insurrection  in  Kilkenny.  On  the  night  of  Saturday, 
July  22d,  M'Gee  left  for  Scotland  to  prepare  the  Irishmen  of 
Glasgow  for  action  ;  and  Meagher,  Dillon,  Reilly,  MacManus, 
O'Donoghue,  and  Leyne  started  southwards  to  place  themselves 
in  communication  with  O'Brien.  A  week  later  the  last  of  the 
national  papers  was  suppressed,  and  the  Nation  went  down, 
sword  in  hand,  as  a  warrior  might  fall,  with  the  word  of  defiance 
upon  its  lips,  and  a  prayer  for  the  good  old  cause  floating  up- 
wards with  its  latest  breath. 

O'Brien  was  in  bed  when  Meagher  and  Dillon  arrived  at  Bal- 
inkeele,  where  he  was  stopping.  The  news  of  the  suspension 
of  the  habeas  corpus  act,  and  of  the  plans  formed  by  the  Con- 
federates were  speedily  communicated  to  him.  O'Brien  mani- 
fested no  surprise  at  the  intelligence.  He  quietly  remarked  that 
the  time  for  action  had  arrived;  and  that  every  Irishman  was 
now  justified  in  taking  up  arms  against  the  government ;  dressed 
himself,  and  set  out  without  losing  an  hour  to  inaugurate  his 
hazardous  enterprise  at  Enniscorthy.  As  the  train  drove  along, 
the  three  friends  occupied  themselves  with  the  important  ques- 
tion, where  should  they  begin  the  outbreak.  Wexford  was 
mentioned,  but  the  number  of  Confederates  enrolled  there  were 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


"3 


few,  and  the  people  were  totally  unprepared  for  a  sudden  ap- 
peal to  arms ;  New  Ross  and  Waterford  were  ruled  against,  be- 
cause of  the  effectual  assistance  the  gunboats  stationed  in  the 
river  could  render  the  garrison  of  those  towns.  Against  Kil- 
kenny none  of  those  objections  applied ;  and  the  more  they 
discussed  the  subject,  the  more  convinced  did  they  become  that 
the  most  fitting  cradle  for  the  infant  genius  of  Irish  liberty  was 
the  ancient  "  city  of  the  Confederates."  ''  Perfectly  safe  from 
all  war  steamers,  gunboats,  and  floating  batteries ;  standing  on 
the  frontiers  of  the  three  best  fighting  counties  in  Ireland — 
Waterford;  Wexford,  and  Tipperary — the  peasantry  of  which 
could  find  no  difficulty  in  pouring  to  its  relief;  possessing  from 
three  to  five  thousand  Confederates,  most  of  whom  were  un- 
derstood to  be  armed ;  the  most  of  the  streets  being  narrow, 
and  presenting  on  this  account  the  greatest  facilities  for  the 
erection  of  barricades ;  the  barracks  lying  outside  the  town,  and 
the  line  of  communication  between  the  powerful  portions  of 
the  latter  and  the  former  being  intercepted  by  the  old  bridge 
over  the  Nore,  which  might  be  easily  defended,  or,  at  the  most, 
very  speedily  demolished;  no  place,"  says  Meagher,  "appeared 
to  us  to  be  better  adapted  for  the  first  scene  of  the  Revolution.** 
Towards  Kilkenny  they  therefore  took  their  way,  haranguing 
the  people  in  soul-stirring  addresses  as  they  proceeded.  At 
Enniscorthy  and  at  Graigue-na-mana  their  appeals  were  re- 
sponded to  with  fervent  enthusiasm ;  they  called  on  the 
people  to  form  themselves  into  organized  bodies,  and  prepare 
to  cooperate  with  the  insurgents  who  were  shortly  to  un- 
furl their  banner  beneath  the  shadow  of  St.  Canice's;  and  the 
crowds  who  hung  on  their  words  vowed  their  determination  to 
do  so.  But  in  Kilkenny,  as  in  every  town  they  visited,  the 
patriot  leaders  found  the  greatest  disinclination  to  take  the  in- 
itiative in  the  holy  war.  There  as  elsewhere  the  people  felt 
no  unwillingness  to  fight ;  but  they  knew  they  were  ill  pre- 
pared for  such  an  emergency,  and  fancied  the  first  blow  might 
be  struck  more  effectively  elsewhere.  "  Who  will  draw  the 
first  blood?'*  asked  Finton   Lalor  in  the  last  number  of  the 


114 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


Felon;  and  the  question  was  a  pertinent  one;  there  was  a  de- 
cided reluctance  to  draw  it.     It  is  far  from  our  intention  to  cast 
the  slightest  reflection  on  the  spirit  or  courage  of  the  national- 
ists of    1848.     We  know  that  it  was  no  selfish   regard  for  their 
own  safety  made  the  leaders  in  Wexford,  Kilkenny,  and  else- 
where, shrink  from  counselling  an  immediate  ontbreak  in  their 
localities  ;  the  people,  as  well  as  the  men  who  led  them,  looked 
forward  to  the  rising  of  the  harvest  moon,  and  the  cutting  of  their 
crops,  as  the  precursors  of  the  herald  that  was  to  summon  them 
to  arms.     Their  state  of  organization  was  lamentably  deficient, 
anticipating  a  month  of  quiet  preparation,  they  had  neglected 
to  procure  arms  up  to  the  date  of  O'Brien's  arrival,  and  a  few 
weeks  would  at  least  be  required  to  complete  their   arrange- 
ments.    In   Kilkenny,  for  instance,  not   one  in    every  eight   of 
the  clubmen  possessed  a  musket,  and  even  their  supply  of  pikes 
was  miserably  small.     But  they  were  ready  to   do  all   that   in 
them  lay;  and  when  O'Brien,  Dillon,  and  Meagher  quitted  Kil- 
kenny on  Monday,  July  24th,  they  went  in  pursuance  of  an  ar- 
rangement which  was  to  bring  them  back  to  the  city  of  the  Nore 
before  the  lapse  of  a  week.     They  were  to   drive  into  Tipper- 
ary,  visit  Carrick,  Clonmel,  and  Cashel,  and  summon  the  peo- 
ple of  those  towns  to  arms.     Then,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  days, 
they  were  to  return  at  the  head  of  their  followers  to  Kilkenny, 
call  out  the  clubs,  barricade  the  streets,  and  from  the  council 
chambers  of  the  Corporation  issue  the  first  Revolutionary  edict 
to  the  country.     They  hoped  that  a  week  later  the  signal-fires 
of  insurrection  would  be  blazing  from  every  hill-top  in  Ireland  ; 
and  that  the   sunlight  of  freedom,  for  which   so  many  genera- 
tions of  patriots  had  yearned,  would  soon  flood  glebe  and  town, 
the  heather-clad    mountains,  and   pleasant  vales  of  Innisfail. 
Diis  aliter  visum  ;  the  vision  that  glittered  before  their  longing 
eyes  melted  away  with  the  smoke  of  the  first  insurgent  shot ; 
and  instead  of  the  laurel  of  the  conqueror,  they  were  decked 
with  the  martyr's  palm. 

On  arriving  in  Callan  the  travellers  were  received  with  every 
demonstration  of  sympathy  and  welcome.     The  streets  were 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  II5 

blocked  with  masses  of  men  that  congregated  to  listen  to  theif 
words.  A  large  procession,  headed  by  the  Temperance  band, 
escorted  them  through  the  town,  and  a  bonfire  was  lit  in  the 
centre  of  the  main  street.  They  told  the  people  to  provide 
themselves  at  once  with  arms,  as  in  a  few  days  they  would  be 
asked  to  march  with  the  insurgent  forces  on  Kilkenny — an  an- 
nouncement that  was  received  with  deafening  applause.  After 
a  few  hours'  delay  the  three  compatriots  quitted  Callan,  and 
pursued  their  road  to  Carrick-on-Suir,  where  they  arrived  on 
the  same  evening,  and  received  a  most  enthusiastic  reception. 
They  addressed  the  excited  multitude  in  impassioned  words, 
promised  to  lead  them  to  battle  before  many  days,  and  called 
on  them  to  practise  patience  and  prudence  in  the  interval.  On 
the  following  day  they  quitted  Carrick,  and  took  their  way  to 
Mullinahone,  where  the  people  gathered  in  thousands  to  receive 
them.  The  number  of  men  who  assembled  to  meet  them  was 
between  three  and  four  thousand,  of  whom  about  three  hun- 
dred were  armed  with  guns,  pistols,  old  swords,  and  pitchforks. 
The  gathering  was  reviewed  and  drilled  by  the  Confederates ; 
and  O'Brien,  who  wore  a  plaid  scarf  across  his  shoulders,  and 
carried  a  pistol  in  his  breast  pocket,  told  them  that  Ireland 
would  have  a  government  of  her  own  before  many  weeks. 

On  the  evening  of  Tuesday,  July  25th,  the  Confederate 
leaders  arrived  in  Mullinahone,  where  they  slept.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning  they  addressed  the  people,  who  flocked  into  the  town 
on  hearing  of  their  arrival.  And  here  it  was  that  O'Brien  him- 
self dealt  the  death-blow  of  the  movement.  The  peasantry, 
who  came  from  their  distant  homes  to  meet  him,  were  left  the 
whole  day  long  without  food  or  shelter.  O'Brien  himself  gave 
what  money  he  had  to  buy  them  bread;  but  he  told  them  in 
future  they  should  provide  for  themselves,  as  he  could  allow 
no  one's  property  to  be  interfered  with.  Hungry  and  exhausted, 
the  men  who  listened  to  him  returned  at  night  to  their  homes ; 
they  were  sensible  enough  to  perceive  that  insurrection  within 
the  lines  laid  down  by  their  leaders  was  impossible  ;  the  news 
that  they  were  expected  to  fight  on  empty  stomachs  was  spread 


Il5  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCJC, 

amongst  the  people,  and  from  that  day  forward  the  number  of 
O'Brien's  followers  dwindled  away. 

On  July  26th,  O'Brien  and  his  party  first  visited  the  village  of 
Ballingarry,  where  he  was  joined  by  MacManus,  Doheny,  Devin 
Reilly,  and  other  prominent  members  of  the  Confederation. 
They  took  a  survey  of  the  village  and  its  neighborhood ;  ad- 
dressed the  crowd  from  the  piers  of  the  chapel  gate,  and  slept 
in  the  house  of  one  of  the  village  shopkeepers.  Next  day  they 
returned  to  MuUinahone,  and  thence  to  Killenaule,  where  they 
were  received  with  every  demonstration  of  welcome  and  re- 
joicing. Bouquets  fell  in  showers  upon  O'Brien;  addresses 
were  read,  and  the  fullest  and  warmest  co-operation  was  freely 
promised  by  the  excited  crowds  that  congregated  in  the 
streets. 

The  exact  position  which  the  Confederates  had  now  assumed 
towards  the  crown  and  government,  is  deserving  of  a  moment's 
attention.  Up  to  the  last  they  carefully  distinguished  between 
resisting  the  acts  of  the  government  and  disputing  the  sover- 
eignty of  the  queen.  They  regarded  the  suspension  of  the 
habeas  corpus  act  as  unconstitutional  in  itself;  and  when 
O'Brien  told  her  Majesty's  ministers  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, that  it  was  they  who  were  the  traitors  to  the  coun- 
try, the  Queen,  and  the  Constitution,  he  did  but  express 
the  opinions  that  underlay  the  whole  policy  of  the  Confedera- 
tion. Even  the  passing  of  the  habeas  corpus  suspension  act 
was  not  quite  sufficient  to  exhaust  their  patience ;  in  order  to 
fill  the  measure  of  the  government's  transgressions,  and  justify 
a  resort  to  arms  against  them,  it  was  necessary  in  the  opinion 
of  O'Brien  and  his  associates,  that  the  authorities  should  at- 
tempt to  carry  into  operation  the  iniquitous  law  they  had 
passed;  the  arrest  of  O'Brien  was  to  be  the  signal  for  insurrec- 
tion; meanwhile,  they  were  satisfied  with  organizing  their  forces 
for  the  fray,  and  preparing  for  offering  an  effective  resistance 
to  the  execution  of  the  warrant,  whenever  it  should  make  its 
appearance.  It  was  therefore  that  when  at  Killenaule,  a  small 
party  of  dragoons  rode   up  to  the  town,  they  were  suffered  ta 


SPBECmS  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


"7 


proceed  unmolested  ;  at  the  first  notice  of  their  coming,  the 
people  rushed  to  the  streets  and  hastily  threw  up  a  barricade 
to  intercept  them.  Dillon  commanded  at  the  barricade ;  be- 
side him  stood  Patrick  O'Donoghue,  and  a  young  man  whose 
career  as  a  revolutionist  was  destined  to  extend  far  beyond  the 
scenes  in  which  he  was  then  sharing ;  and  whose  name  was  one 
day  to  become  first  a  terror  to  the  government  of  England, 
and  afterwards  a  by-word  and  a  reproach  amongst  his  country, 
men.  O'Donoghue  and  Stephens  were  both  armed,  and  when 
the  officer  commanding  the  dragoons  rode  up  to  the  barricade 
and  demanded  a  passage,  Stephens  promptly  covered  him  with 
his  rifle,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  command  from 
Dillon  to  ground  his  arms.  The  officer  pledged  his  honor  that 
he  did  not  come  with  the  object  of  arresting  O'Brien  ;  the  bar- 
ricade was  taken  down  ;  and  the  dragoons  passed  scatheless 
through  the  town.  Another  opportunity  had  been  lost,  and 
the  hearts  of  the  most  resolute  of  O'Brien's  colleagues  sunk 
lower  than  ever. 

On  Friday,  O'Brien  and  his  followers  returned  to  Ballingarry, 
where  they  held  a  council  on  the  prospects  of  the  movement. 
It  was  clear  that  the  case  was  a  desperate  one,  that  the  chance 
of  successful  resistance  was  inevitably  lost,  and  that  nothing 
now  awaited  them — should  they  persist  in  their  enterprise — 
but  ruin  and  death.  Only  a  couple  of  hundred  men,  wretch- 
edly armed,  or  not  armed  at  all,  adhered  to  their  failing  fortunes  ; 
and  throughout  the  rest  of  the  country  the  disaffected  gave  no 
sign.  But  O'Brien  was  immovable ;  he  would  do  his  duty  by 
his  country,  let  the  country  answer  for  its  duty  towards  him. 

The  collision  came  at  last.  On  Saturday  morning,  July  29th, 
the  constabulary  of  Thurles,  Kilkenny,  Cashel,  and  Callan  re- 
ceived  orders  to  march  on  the  village  of  Ballingarry,  for  the 
purpose  of  arresting  Smith  O'Brien.  On  the  previous  day  the 
government  had  issued  a  proclamation,  declaring  him  guilty  of 
treasonable  practices,  by  appearing  in  arms  against  the  Queen, 
and  offering  a  reward  of  ^500  for  his  apprehension ;  on  the 
Ram*»  day,  ^300  was  offered  for  the  arrest  of  Meagher,  Dillon, 


jjg  SPEECFTMFS  rnOM    THE  DOCK. 

and  Doheny.  Fired  with  the  ambition  of  capturing  the  rebel 
party  with  his  own  forces,  and  winning  for  himself  a  deathlesi 
fame,  Sub-Inspector  Trant  marched  out  in  hot  haste  from  Cal- 
lan,  at  the  head  of  forty-six  policemen,  and  directed  his  steps 
towards  Ballingarry,  where  it  was  known  to  him  that  O'Brien 
was  still  stopping.  Between  twelve  and  one  o'clock  they  ai; 
rived  at  Farrenrory,  within  three  miles  of  the  village  of  Ballin* 
garry.  On  arriving  at  this  point  the  police  found  that  effective 
measures  had  been  adopted  to  dispute  their  further  progress. 
Across  the  road  before  them  a  barricade  had  been  thrown  up, 
and  behind  it  was  arrayed  a  body  of  men,  numbering  from 
three  to  four  hundred.  Fearing  to  face  the  insurgent  forces, 
the  police  turned  off  to  the  right,  and  rushed  towards  a  slate 
house  which  they  saw  in  the  distance.  The  people  saw  the  ob- 
ject of  the  movement,  and  at  once  gave  chase;  but  the  police 
had  the  advantage  of  a  long  start,  and  they  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  house  and  barring  the  door  by  which  they  entered,  be- 
fore their  pursuers  came  up. 

The  die  was  cast,  and  the  struggle  so  long  watched  for,  and 
sighed  for,  had  come  at  last.  But  it  came  not  as  it  had  been 
depicted  by  the  tribune  and  poet ;  the  vision  that  had  flashed 
its  radiancy  before  the  eager  eyes  that  hungered  for  the  re* 
demption  of  Ireland,  differed  sadly  from  the  miserable  reality. 
The  serried  ranks  of  glitteering  steel,  the  files  of  gallant  pike« 
men,  the  armed  columns  of  stalwart  peasants,  pouring  through 
gap  and  river-course,  the  glimmering  camp-fires  quivering 
through  the  mist,  the  waving  banners,  and  the  flashing  swords — 
where  were  they  now?  Where  were  the  thousands  of  match- 
less mould,  the  men  of  strength  and  spirit,  whose  footfalls  woke 
the  echoes  one  month  before  in  a  hundred  towns  as  they 
marched  to  the  meetings  at  which  they  swore  to  strike  down 
the  oppressor  ?  Only  a  few  months  had  passed  since  two 
thousand  determined  men  had  passed  in  review  before  O'Brien 
at  Cork;  scarcely  six  weeks  since,  similar  sights  were  witnessed 
from  the  city  of  the  Shannon  to  the  winding  reaches  of  the  Boyne, 
Everywhere  there  were  strength,  and  numbers,  and  resolution; 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


119 


where  were  they  now,  in  the  supreme  hour  of  the  country's 
agony?  A  thousand  times  it  had  been  sworn  by  tens  of 
thousands  of  Irishmen,  that  the  tocsin  of  battle  would  find 
them  clustered  round  the  good  old  flag,  to  conquer  or  die  be- 
neath  its  shadow.  And  now,  the  hour  had  come,  the  flag  of 
insurrection  so  often  invoked  was  raised  ;  but  the  patriot  that 
raised  it  was  left  defenceless;  he  at  least  kept  his  word,  but  the 
promises  on  which  he  relied  had  broken,  like  dissolving  ice,  be- 
neath his  feet. 

Around  O'Brien  there  clustered  on  that  miserable  noontide, 
about  four  hundred  human  beings — a  weak,  hungry,  and  em- 
aciated-looking throng  for  the  most  part ;  their  half-naked 
forms,  browned  by  the  sun,  and  hardened  by  the  winter  winds — • 
a  motley  gathering  ;  amongst  whom  there  were  scores  of  fast- 
ing men,  and  hundreds  through  whose  wretched  dwellings  the 
wind  and  rain  found  free  ingress.  They  were  poor,  they  were 
weak,  they  were  ignorant,  they  were  unarmed  !  but  there  was 
one  thing  at  least  which  they  possessed — that  quality  which 
Heaven  bestowed  on  the  Irish  race,  to  gild  and  redeem  their 
misfortunes.  Of  courage  and  resolution  they  had  plenty  ;  they 
understood  little  of  the  causes  which  led  to  the  outbreak  in 
which  they  participated  ;  of  Smith  O'Brien  or  his  associates 
few  of  them  had  heard  up  to  their  appearance  at  Ballingarry; 
but  they  knew  that  it  was  against  the  forces  of  the  British  gov- 
ernment, and  on  behalf  of  Ireland's  independence,  they  were 
called  on  to  fight,  and  in  this  cause  they  were  ready  to  shed 
their  blood.  Such  was  the  party  whom  O'Brien  gazed  upon 
with  a  troubled  mind  on  that  eventful  day.  Even  the  attached 
companions  who  had  so  far  attended  him  were  no  longer  by 
his  side;  MacManus,  O'Donoghue,  and  Stephens  were  still  there; 
but  Meagher,  Dillon,  Doheny  and  O'Gorman  had  left  at  break 
of  day  to  raise  the  standard  of  insurrection  in  other  quarters. 
Of  the  men  around  him  not  more  than  twenty  possessed  fire- 
arms, about  twice  that  number  were  armed  with  pikes  and 
pitchforks ;  the  remainder  had  but  their  naked  hands,  and  the 
stones  they  could  gather  by  the  wayside. 


J20  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  ^ -.     -.r..; 

On  the  Other  side  were  forty-seven  disciplined  men,  splend!,-^!? 
armed,  and  ensconced  moreover  in  a  building  possessing  for  th(i 
purpose  of  the  hour  the  strength  of  a  fortress.  It  stood  on  the 
brow  of  a  hill  overlooking  the  country  in  every  direction  ;  it 
consisted  of  two  stories,  with  four  windows  in  each,  in  front 
and  rear ;  each  gable  being  also  pierced  by  a  pair  of  windows 
There  were  six  little  children  in  the  house  when  the  police  en- 
tered it  Their  mother,  the  Widow  M  Cormick  arrived  on  the 
spot  immediately  after  the  police  had  taken  possession  of  hei 
domicile,  and,  addressing  O'Brien,  she  besought  him  to  save 
her  little  ones  from  danger.  On  O'Brien's  chivalrous  nature 
the  appeal  was  not  wasted.  Heedless  of  the  danger  to  which 
he  exposed  himself,  he  walked  up  to  the  window  of  the  house. 
Standing  at  the  open  window,  with  his  breast  within  an  inch 
of  the  bayonets  of  the  two  policemen  who  were  on  the  inside, 
he  called  on  them  to  give  up  their  arms,  and  avoid  a  useless 
effusion  of  blood.  *'  We  are  all  Irishmen,  boys,"  he  said,  "  I 
only  want  your  arms,  and  I'll  protect  your  lives."  The  reply 
was  a  murderous  volley  poured  on  the  gathering  outside. 
Some  half-drunken  person  in  the  crowd,  it  appears,  had  flung  a 
stone  at  one  of  the  windows,  and  the  police  needed  no  further 
provocation.  The  fire  was  returned  by  the  insurgents,  and 
O'Brien,  seeing  that  his  efforts  to  preserve  peace  were  futile, 
quitted  the  window,  and  rejoined  his  companions.  For  nearly 
two  hours  the  firing  continued  ;  the  police,  well  sheltered  from 
the  possibility  of  injury,  fired  in  all  about  220  rounds,  killing 
two  men,  and  wounding  a  number  of  others,  amongst  them 
James  Stephens,  who  was  shot  in  the  thigh.  Long  before  an 
equal  number  of  shots  were  fired  from  without,  the  ammuni- 
tion of  the  insurgents  was  exhausted,  and  they  could  only  re- 
ply to  the  thick  falling  bullets  with  the  stones  which  the 
women  present  gathered  for  them  in  their  aprons.  It  was 
clear  that  the  house  could  not  be  stormed  in  this  way  ;  and 
MacManus,  with  half-a-dozen  resolute  companions,  rolled  a  cart* 
load  of  hay  up  to  the  kitchen  door  with  the  intention  of  setting 
6re  to  it  and  burning  down  the  house.     But  O'Brien  would  not 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK.  12 1 

permit  it;  there  were  children  in  the  house,  and  their  innocent 
lives  should  not  be  sacrificed.  In  vain  did  MacManus  entreat 
him  for  permission  to  fire  his  pistol  into  the  hay,  and  kindle 
the  ready  flames;  O'Brien  was  inexorable;  and  the  first  and 
last  battle  of  the  insurrection  was  lost  and  won.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Fitzgerald,  the  priest  of  the  parish,  and  his  curate,  Father 
Maher,  now  appeard  on  the  spot,  and  naturally  used  their  in- 
fluence to  terminate  the  hopeless  struggle;  a  large  force  of  con- 
stabulary from  Cashel  soon  after  were  seen  approaching,  and 
the  people,  who  now  saw  the  absolute  uselessness  of  further 
resistance,  broke  away  to  the  hills.  The  game  was  up ;  the 
banner  of  Irish  independence  had  again  sunk  to  the  dust ;  and 
O'Brien,  who  had  acted  throughout  with  preternatural  cool- 
ness, and  whose  face  gave  no  more  indications  of  emotion 
than  if  it  had  been  chiseled  in  marble,  turned  from  the  scene 
with  a  broken  heart.  For  a  length  of  time  he  resisted  the  en- 
treaties of  his  friends,  and  refused  to  leave  the  spot;  at  last  their 
solicitations  prevailed,  and  mounting  a  horse  taken  from  one 
of  the  police,  he  rode  away. 

From  that  fatal  day  down  to  the  night  of  Saturday,  August 
5th,  the  police  sought  vainly  for  O  Brien.  He  slept  in  the 
peasant's  hut  on  the  mountain,  and  he  shared  his  scanty  fare; 
a  price  which  might  well  dazzle  the  senses  of  his  poverty-stricken 
entertainers  was  on  his  head,  and  they  knew  it  ;  over  hillside 
and  valley  swarmed  the  host  of  spies,  detectives,  and  policemen 
placed  on  his  track  ;  but  no  hand  was  raised  to  clutch  the 
tempting  bribe,  no  voice  v/hispered  the  information  for  which 
the  government  profferred  its  gold.  Amongst  those  too  who 
took  part  in  the  affray  at  Ballingarry,  and  who  subsequently 
were  cast  in  shoals  into  prison,  there  were  many  from  whom. 
the  government  sought  to  extract  information.  Bribes  and 
promises  of  pardon  were  held  up  before  their  eyes,  menaces 
were  freely  resorted  to,  but  amongst  them  the  government 
sought  vainly  for  an  informer.  Many  of  them  died  in  captiv- 
ity, or  in  exile ;  their  homes  were  broken  up ;  their  wives  and 
children  left  destitute  and  friendless ,  but  the  words  that  would 


122  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

give  them  liberty  and  wealth,  and  terminate  the  sufferings  A 
themselves  and  their  families  were  never  spoken.  Had  O'Br  £n 
chosen  to  escape  from  the  country,  like  Doheny,  O'Gorr-ian, 
Dillon,  and  other  of  his  friends,  it  is  probable  he  might  have  done 
so.  He  resolved,  however,  on  facing  the  consequence  of  hij  acts, 
and  sharing  the  fate  of  the  Irish  rebel  to  the  bitter  end. 

The  rain  fell  cold  and  drearily  in  the  deserted  streets  of 
Thurles  on  the  night  which  saw  the  arrest  of  William  Smith 
O'Brien.  Away  over  the  shadowy  mountains  in  the  distance 
the  swimming  vapors  cast  their  shroud,  wrapping  in  their 
chilling  folds  the  homes  of  the  hunger-stricken,  prostrate 
race  that  sat  by  their  fireless  hearths.  The  autumn  gale 
swept  over  the  desolate  land,  as  if  moaning  at  the  ruin  and 
misery  that  cursed  it,  and  wailing  the  dirge  of  the  high  hopes 
and  ardent  purposes  that  a  few  short  weeks  before  had  glad- 
dened the  hearts  of  its  people.  Calmly  and  deliberately,  with 
folded  arms,  O'Brien  walked  through  the  streets,  and  entered 
the  Thurles  Railway  Station.  He  wore  a  black  hat,  a  blue 
boat-cloak,  in  which  he  was  rather  tightly  muffled,  and  a  light 
plaid  trousers  ;  in  his  hand  he  carried  a  large  black  stick.  He 
walked  to  the  ticket  office  and  paid  his  fare  to  Limerick;  then 
wrapping  himself  up  in  his  cloak,  and  folding  his  arms,  again  he 
walked  slowly  along  the  platform,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
train.  He  had  resolved  on  surrendering  himself  for  trial,  but 
he  wished  to  pay  one  last  visit  to  his  home  and  family.  That 
gratification,  however,  was  denied  him;  he  was  recognized  by  an 
Englishman  named  Hulme,  a  railway  guard  ;  in  an  instant  he 
was  surrounded  by  police  and  detectives,  and  torn  off  with 
brutal  violence  to  gaol.  That  same  night,  an  express  train 
flashed  northwards  through  the  fog  and  mist,  bearing  O'Brien 
a  prisoner  to  Dublin.  In  the  carriage  in  which  he  was  placed 
sat  General  M' Donald,  a  SubJnspector  of  Constabulary,  and 
four  policemen.  On  entering  the  train  a  pistol  was  placed  at 
O'Brien's  head,  and  he  was  commanded  not  to  speak,  on  peril 
of  his  life.  Disregarding  the  injunction,  he  turned  to  M'Don- 
ald,  and  asked  him  why  he   was  so  scandalously  used.     The 


SFEECHES  FROBl  THE  DOCK,  J23 

General  "  had  a  duty  to  perform/*  and  "  his  orders  should  be 
obeyed."  "  I  have  played  the  game  and  lost,"  said  O'Brien, 
"  and  I  am  ready  to  pay  the  penalty  of  having  failed  ;  I  hope 
that  those  who  accompanied  me  may  be  dealt  with  in  clemency; 
I  care  not  what  happens  to  myself.*' 

On  Thursday,  September  28th,  he  was  arrainged  before  a 
Special  Commission,  on  a  charge  of  high  treason  at  Clonmel. 
The  trial  lasted  ten  days,  and  ended  in  a  verdict  of  guilty.  It 
excited  unprecedented  interest  throughout  the  country,  and 
there  are  many  of  its  incidents  deserving  of  permanent  record. 
Amongst  the  witnesses  brought  forward  by  the  crown  was  John 
O'Donnell,  a  comfortable  farmer,  who  resided  near  Ballingarry. 
**  I  won't  be  sworn,"  he  said,  on  coming  on  the  table,  ''  or  give 
evidence  under  any  circumstances.  You  may  bring  me  out  and 
put  a  file  of  soldiers  before  me,  and  plant  twenty  bullets  in  my 
breast,  but  while  I  have  a  heart  there  I  will  never  swear  for 
you."  He  expiated  his  patriotism  by  a  long  imprisonment. 
Nor  was  this  a  solitary  instance  of  heroism  ;  Richard  Shea,  a 
fine-looking  young  peasant,  on  being  handed  the  book,  declared 
that  "  he  would  not  swear  against  such  a  gentleman,"  and  he, 
too,  was  carried  off  to  pass  years  within  a  British  dungeon. 
But  their  sacrifices  were  unavailing;  of  evidence  there  was 
plenty  against  O'Brien  ;  the  police  were  overflowing  with  it, 
and  the  eloquence  and  ability  of  Whiteside  were  powerless  to 
save  him  from  a  verdict  of  guilty. 

The  papers  of  the  time  are  full  of  remarks  on  the  firmness 
and  self-possession  displayed  by  O'Brien  throughout  the  trial. 
Even  the  announcement  of  the  verdict  failed  to  disturb  his 
composure,  and  when  the  usual  question  was  asked,  he  replied 
with  calmness  and  deliberation  : 

"My  Lords, — it  is  not  my  intention  to  enter  into  any  vindication  of 
my  conduct,  however  much  I  might  have  desired  to  avail  myself  of 
this  opportunity  of  so  doing.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  I  have  performed  my  duty  to  my  country — that  I  have 
done  only  that  which,  in  my  opinion,  it  was  the  duty  of  every  Irish- 
man to  have  done  ;  and  I  am  now  prepared  to  abide  the  consequences 
of  having  performed  my  duty  to  my  native  land.  Proceed  with  your 
sentence." 


124 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCIC. 


A  deep  murmur,  followed  by  a  burst  of  applause,  filled  the 
court  as  the  noble  patriot  ceased  speaking.  Stepping  back  a 
pace,  and  folding  his  arms  on  his  breast,  O'Brien  looked  fixedly 
at  the  judge,  and  awaited  the  sentence  of  the  court.  Amidst 
the  deepest  sensation,  Chief-Justice  Blackburne  proceeded  to 
d  scharge  his  task.  O'Brien  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  be- 
lieaded,  and  quartered.  ''  During  the  delivery  of  the  sentence," 
says  a  writer  of  the  period,  *'  the  most  profound  agitation  per- 
vaded the  court ;  as  it  drew  towards  the  close,  the  excitement 
became  more  marked  and  intense ;  but  when  the  last  bar- 
barous provisions  of  the  sentence  were  pronounced,  the  public 
feeling  could  only  manifest  itself  by  stifled  sobs  and  broken 
murmurs  of  sympathy  for  the  heroic  man,  who  alone  was 
unmoved  during  this  awful  scene,  whose  lips  alone  did  not 
quiver,  whose  hand  alone  did  not  tremble,  but  whose  heart 
beat  with  the  calm  pulsation  of  conscious  guiltlessness  and  un- 
sullied honor." 

Nine  months  later  (July  29th,  1849),  ^^^  brig  "  Swift"  sailed 
from  Kingstowrv  harbor,  bearing  O'Brien,  Meagher,  MacManus, 
and  O'Donoghue  into  exile.  In  the  month  of  November  the 
the  vessel  reached  Hobart  Town,  where  **  tickets-of-leave"  were 
offered  to  those  gentlemen  on  condition  of  their  residing  each 
one  within  a  certain  district  marked  out  for  him,  and  giving 
their  parole  to  make  no  attempt  at  escape  while  in  possession 
of  the  ticket.  Messrs.  Meagher,  MacManus,  and  O'Donoghue 
accepted  these  terms  ;  Mr.  O'Brien  refused  them,  and  was  con- 
sequently sent  to  an  island  off  the  coast,  called  Maria  Island, 
where  he  was  placed  in  strict  custody  and  treated  with  great 
severity.  The  news  of  the  indignities  and  the  sufferings  to 
which  he  was  subjected,  outraged  the  feelings  of  the  Irish 
people  in  the  neighboring  country,  and  ere  long  his  sympa- 
thizers in  Tasmania  laid  a  plan  for  his  escape.  They  hired  a  ves« 
sel  to  lie  off  the  coast  on  a  particular  day,  and  send  a  boat  on 
shore  to  take  off  the  prisoner,  who  had  been  informed  of  the 
plot,  and  had  arranged  to  be  in  waiting  for  his  deliverers.  This 
design  would    unquestionably   have    succeeded  but   for    the 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCJC, 


125 


treachery  of  the  captain  of  the  ship,  who,  before  sailing  to  the 
appointed  spot,  had  given  the  government  information  of  the 
intended  escape,  and  the  manner  of  it.  What  occurred  on  the 
arrival  of  the  vessel  we  shall  relate  in  the  words  of  Mr.  Mitchel, 
who  tells  the  story  in  his  ''Jail  Journal,"  as  he  heard  it  from 
Mr.  O'Brien  himself: — 

"At  last,  as  he  wandered  on  the  shore,  and  had  almost  given  up 
all  hope  of  the  schooner,  the  schooner  hove  in  sight.  To  give 
time  for  her  approach  he  walked  into  the  woods  for  a  space, 
that  he  might  not  alarm  his  guardian  constable  by  his  attention 
to  her  movements.  Again  he  sauntered  down  towards  the 
point,  with  apparent  carelessness,  but  with  a  beating  heart.  San 
Francisco  was  to  be  his  first  destination  ;  and  beyond  that  golden 
gate  lay  the  great  world,  and  home,  and  children,  and  an  honor- 
able life.  The  boat  was  coming,  manned  by  three  men  ;  and  he 
stepped  proudly  and  resolutely  to  meet  them  on  the  shore.  To 
be  sure  there  was,  somewhere  behind  him,  one  miserable  con- 
stable, with  his  miserable  musket,  but  he  had  no  doubt  of  being 
able  to  dispose  of  that  difficulty  with  the  aid  of  his  allies,  the 
boatmen.  The  boat  could  not  get  quite  close  to  the  beach,  be- 
cause they  had  to  run  her  into  a  kind  of  cove  where  the  water 
was  calm  and  unencumbered  with  large  tangled  weeds.  O'Brien, 
when  he  reached  the  beach,  plunged  into  the  water  to  prevent 
delay,  and  struggled  through  the  thick,  matted  seaweed  to  the 
boat.  The  water  was  deeper  than  he  expected,  and  when  he 
came  to  the  boat  he  needed  the  aid  of  the  boatmen  to  climb 
over  the  gunwale.  Instead  of  giving  him  this  aid  the  rascals  al- 
lowed him  to  flounder  there,  and  kept  looking  to  the  shore,  where 
the  constable  had  by  this  time  appeared  with  his  musket.  The 
moment  he  showed  himself,  the  three  boatmen  cried  out  to- 
gether, "We  surrender!"  and  invited  him  on  board;  where  he 
instantly  took  up  a  hatchet — no  doubt  provided  by  the  ship  for 
that  purpose — and  stove  the  boat.  O'Brien  saw  he  was  betrayed, 
and  on  being  ordered  to  move  along  with  the  constable  and 
boatmen  towards  the  station,  he  refused  to  stir — hoping,  in 
fact,  by  his  resistance,  to  provoke  the  constable  to  shoot  him. 


^26  SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK. 

However,  the  three  boatmen  seized  on  him,  and  lifted  him  up 
from  the  ground,  and  carried  him  wherever  the  constable 
ordered.  His  custody  was  thereafter  made  more  rigorous,  and 
he  was  shortly  after  removed  from  Maria  Island  to  Port  Arthur 
station," 

To  this  brief  narrative  the  following  **  note"  is  appended  in 
the  work  from  which  we  have  just  quoted  : — 

''  Ellis,  the  captain  of  the  schooner,  was  some  months  after 
seized  at  San  Francisco  by  Mr.  MacManus  and  others,  brought 
by  night  out  of  his  ship,  and  carried  in  the  country  to  undergo 
his  trial  under  a  tree,  whereupon,  if  found  guilty,  he  was 
destined  to  swing.  MacManus  set  out  his  indictment  ;  and  it 
proves  how  much  Judge  Lynch's  method  of  administering  jus- 
tice in  those  early  days  of  California  excelled  anything  we 
know  of  law  or  justice  in  Ireland — that  Ellis,  for  want  of 
sufficient  and  satisfactory  evidence  then  producible,  was 
acquitted  by  that  midnight  court,  under  that  convenient  and 
tempting  tree." 

Port  Arthur  station,  to  which  Mr.  O'Brien  was  removed  from 
Maria  Island,  was  a  place  of  punishment  for  convicts  who, 
while  serving  out  their  terms  of  transportation,  had  com- 
mitted fresh  offences  against  the  law.  After  a  detention 
there  for  some  time,  Mr.  O'Brien,  whose  health  was  rapidly 
sinking  under  the  ligors  of  his  confinement,  was  induced, 
by  letters  from  his  political  friends,  to  accept  the  ticket-of- 
leave  and  avail  of  the  comparative  liberty  which  they  en- 
joyed. The  government,  on  his  acceptance  of  their  terms 
placed  him  first  in  the  district  of  New  Norfolk,  and  subse-. 
quently  in  that  of  Avoca,  where  he  remained  until  the  condi. 
tional  pardon,  already  mentioned  in  these  columns,  was  granted, 
in  1854.  He  then  left  Australia,  went  onto  Madras,  where 
he  made  a  stay  of  about  a  month  ;  from  thence  he  went  to 
Paris,  and  on  to  Brussels,  where  he  was  joined  by  his  wife  and 
children.  He  next  made  a  tour  in  Greece,  and  was  in  that 
country  when  the  unconditional  pardon,  which  permitted  him  tc 
return  to  his  native  land,  was  granted  in  the  month  of  May^ 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  1^7 

1856,  immediately  after  the  close  of  the  Crimean  war.  On 
Tuesday,  July  8th,  1856,  Mr  O'Brien  stood  once  more  upon  his 
native  soil,  after  an  exile  of  eight  years.  The  news  of  his  ar- 
rival was  joyfully  received  by  his  fellow-countrymen,  who  wel- 
comed him  with  every  mark  of  respect  and  affection  whenever 
he  appeared  among  them.  Thenceforward  Mr.  O'Brien  took 
no  active  part  in  Irish  politics,  but  he  frequently  offered  ad- 
vice and  suggestions  to  his  countrymen  through  the  medium 
of  letters  and  addresses  in  the  Nation.  In  February,  1859,  ^^• 
O'Brien  made  a  voyage  to  America,  and  during  the  ensuing 
months  travelled  through  a  great  portion  of  that  country. 
After  his  return  to  Ireland  he  delivered,  in  November,  1859, 
an  interesting  series  of  lectures  on  his  tour,  in  the  Mechanics' 
Institute,  Dublin.  On  July  ist,  1863,  he  lectured  in  the  Ro- 
tundo,  Dublin,  for  the  benefit  of  a  fund  which  was  being  raised 
for  the  relief  of  the  wounded  and  destitute  patriots  of  the  Po- 
lish insurrection.  In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1864,  the  health 
of  the  illustrious  patriot  began  rapidly  to  fail,  and  he  was  taken 
by  his  friends  to  England  for  a  change  of  air.  But  the  weight 
of  many  years  of  care  and  suffering  was  on  him^,  and  its  effects 
could  not  be  undone.  On  the  i6th  of  June,  1864,  at  Bangor, 
the  noble-hearted  patriot  breathed  his  last.  His  family  had  the 
honored  remains  brought  to  Ireland  for  interment  in  the  old 
burial-ground  of  his  fathers.  On  Thursday  morning  at  an  early 
hour  thev  reached  Dublin  on  board  the  "  Cambria"  steamer. 
It  was  known  that  his  family  wished  that  no  public  demonstra- 
tion should  be  made  at  his  funeral,  but  the  feelings  of  the  citi- 
zens who  desired  to  pay  a  tribute  of  respect  to  his  memory 
could  not  be  repressed.  In  the  grey  hours  of  the  morning  the 
people  in  thousands  assembled  on  the  quays  to  await  the  ar- 
rival of  the  remains,  and  two  steamers,  which  had  been  char- 
tered for  the  purpose,  proceeded,  with  large  numbers  on  board, 
some  distance  into  the  harbor  to  meet  the  approaching  vessel. 
All  along  the  way,  from  the  North-wall  to  the  Kings-bridge 
railway  station,  the  hearse  bearing  the  patriot's  body  was  ac- 
companied by  the    procession  of  mourners,  numbering  about 


128  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIC. 

15,000  men.  At  various  stages  of  the  journey  similar  scenes 
were  witnessed.  But  the  end  was  soon  reached.  In  the 
churchyard  of  Rathronan,  county  Limerick,  they  laid  him  to 
rest.  The  green  grass  grows  freshly  around  the  vault  in  which 
he  sleeps,  and  has  long  filled  up  the  foot-prints  of  the  multitude 
who  broke  the  silence  of  that  lonely  spot  by  their  sobs  on  the 
day  he  was  buried  ;  the  winter  gales  will  come  and  go,  and 
touched  by  the  breath  of  spring,  the  wild  flowers  will  blossom 
there  through  succeeding  years  ;  but  never  again  will  a  purer 
spirit,  a  nobler  mind,  a  patriot  more  brave,  more  chivalrous,  or 
more  true,  give  his  heart  to  the  cause  of  Ireland,  than  the  sil- 
ver-haired, care-burdened  gentleman  whom  they  bore  from 
Cahirmoyle  to  his  grave  on  the  24th  day  of  June,  1864. 


THOMAS  FRANCIS  MEAGHER. 

ARLY  in  1846,  when  the  Repeal  Association  was  still 
powerful  and  great,  and  ere  yet  the  country  had 
ceased  to  throb  to  the  magic  of  O'Connell's  voice, 
there  rose  one  day  from  amongst  those  who  crowded 
the  platform  of  Conciliation  Hall,  a  well-featured, 
gracefully-built,  dark-eyed  young  gentleman,  towards 
whom  the  faces  of  the  assembly  turned  in  curiosity,  and  whose 
accents  when  he  spoke  were  those  of  a  stranger  to  the  audience. 
Few  of  them  had  heard  of  his  name ;  not  one  of  them — if  the 
chairman,  William  Smith  O'Brien,  be  excepted — had  the  faint- 
est idea  of  the  talents  and  capacities  he  possessed,  and  which 
were  one  day  to  enrapture  and  electrify  his  countrymen.  He 
addressed  the  meeting  on  one  of  the  p^s'^ing  topics  of  the  day; 
something  in  his  manner  savoring  of  affectation,  soin^thing  in 
the  semi-Saxon  lisp  that  struggled  through  his  lov-toi-'d  utter- 
ances, something  in  the  total  lack  of  suitable  gesture,  gave  his 
listeners  at  the  outset  an  unfavorable  impression  of  the  young 


KEVIN    I.    O'DOHERTY. 
THOMAS    F.    MEAGHER.  TERENCE   B.    M'MANUS. 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK.  I2q 

speaker.  He  was  boyish,  and  some  did  not  scruple  to  hint  con* 
ceited ;  he  had  too  much  of  the  fine  gentleman  about  his  ap- 
pearance, and  too  little  of  the  native  brogue  and  stirring  decla- 
mation to  which  his  listeners  had  been  accustomed.  The  new 
man  is  a  failure,  was  the  first  idea  that  suggested  itself  to  the 
audience ;  but  he  was  not ;  and  when  he  resumed  his  seat  he 
had  conquered  all  prejudices,  and  wrung  the  cheers  of  admira- 
tion from  the  meeting.  Warming  with  his  subject,  and  casting 
off  the  restraints  that  hampered  his  utterance  at  first,  he  poured 
forth  a  strain  of  genuine  eloquence,  vivified  by  the  happiest  al- 
lusions, and  enriched  by  imagery  and  quotations  as  beautifal 
as  they  were  appropriate,  which  startled  the  meeting  from  its 
indifference,  and  won  for  the  young  speaker  the  enthusiastic 
applause  of  his  audience.  O'Brien  complimented  him  warmly 
on  his  success,  and  thus  it  was  that  the  orator  of  Young  Ireland 
made  his  debut  on  the  political  platform. 

Meagher  was  not  quite  twenty-three  years  of  age  when  his 
voice  was  first  heard  in  Conciliation  Hall.  He  was  born  in 
Waterford,  of  an  old  Catholic  family,  which  through  good  and 
ill  had  adhered  to  the  national  faith,  and  the  national  cause  ;  his 
school-boy  days  were  passed  partly  at  Clongowes-wood  College, 
and  partly  under  the  superintendence  of  the  Jesuit  Fathers  at 
Stoneyhurst,  in  Lancashire.  His  early  years  gave  few  indications 
of  the  splendid  wealth  of  genius  that  slumbered  within  his  breast. 
He  took  little  interest  in  his  classical  or  mathematical  studies  ; 
but  he  was  an  ardent  student  of  English  literature,  and  his  com- 
positions in  poetry  and  prose  invariably  carried  away  the  prize. 
He  found  his  father  filling  the  civic  chair  in  Waterford,  when 
he  returned  from  Stoneyhurst  to  his  native  city.  O'Connell 
was  in  the  plentitude  of  his  power ;  and  from  end  to  end  of  the 
land,  the  people  were  shaken  by  mighty  thoughts  and  grand 
aspirations ;  with  buoyant  and  unfaltering  tread  the  nation 
seemed  advancing  towards  the  goal  of  Freedom,  and  the  man- 
hood of  Ireland  seemed  kindling  at  the  flame  which  glowed  be- 
fore the  altar  of  Liberty.  Into  the  national  movement  young 
Meagher  threw  himself  with  the  enthusiasm  of  his  nature.     At 


j^Q  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIT. 

the  early  age  of  twenty  we  find  him  presiding  over  a  meeting 
of  Repealers  in  his  native  city,  called  to  express  sympathy 
with  the  State  prisoners  of  '43,  and  he  thenceforward  became 
a  diligent  student  of  contemporary  politics.  He  became  known 
as  an  occasional  speaker  at  local  gatherings ;  but  it  was  not  un- 
til the  event  we  have  described  that  Meagher  was  fairly 
launched  in  the  troubled  tide  of  politics,  and  that  his  lot  was 
cast  for  good  or  evil,  with  the  leaders  of  the  national  party. 

Up  to  the  date  of  secession  Meagher  was  a  frequent  speaker 
at  the  meetings  of  the  Repeal  Association.  Day  by  day  his 
reputation  as  a  speaker  extended,  until  at  length  he  grew  to  be 
recognized  as  the  orator  of  the  party,  and  the  knowledge  that 
he  was  expected  to  speak  was  sufficient  to  crowd  Conciliation 
Hall  to  overflowing.  When  the  influence  of  the  Nation  party 
began  to  be  felt,  and  signs  of  disunion  appeared  on  the  horizon, 
O'Connell  made  a  vigorous  eff'ort  to  detach  Meagher  from  the 
side  of  Mitchel,  Duffy,  and  O'Brien.  "  These  young  Irelanders," 
he  said,  ''will  lead  you  into  danger."  "They  may  lead  me 
into  danger,"  replied  Meagher,  "  but  certainly  not  into  dis- 
honor." 

Against  the  trafficking  with  the  Whigs,  which  subsequently 
laid  the  Repeal  Association  in  the  dust,  and  shipwrecked  a 
movement  which  might  have  ended  in  the  disenthralment  of 
Ireland,  Meagher  protested  in  words  of  prophetic  warning. 
''The  suspicion  is  abroad,"  he  said,  "that  the  national  cause 
will  be  sacrificed  to  Whig  supremacy,  and  that  the  people,  who 
are  now  striding  on  to  freedom,  will  be  purchased  back  into 
factious  vassalage.  The  Whigs  calculate  upon  your  apostacy, 
the  Conservatives  predict  it."  The  place-beggars,  who  looked 
to  the  Whigs  for  position  and  wealth,  murmured  as  they  heard 
their  treachery  laid  bare,  and  their  designs  dissected  in  the  im- 
passioned appeals  by  which  Meagher  sought  to  recall  them  to 
the  path  of  patriotism  and  duty.  It  was  necessary  for  their 
ends  that  the  bold  denouncer  of  corruption,  and  the  men  who 
acted  with  him,  should  be  driven  from  the  Association  ;  and  to 
effect  that  object  O'Connell  was  hounded  on  to  the  step  which 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


i3« 


ended  in  the  secession.  The  "  peace  resolutions"  were  intro. 
duced,  and  Meagher  found  himself  called  on  to  subscribe  to  a 
doctrine  which  his  soul  abhorred — that  the  use  of  arms  was  at 
all  times  unjustifiable  and  immoral.  The  Lord  Mayor  was  in 
the  chair,  and  O'Brien,  John  O'Connell,  Denis  Reilly,  Tom 
Steele,  and  John  Mitchel  had  spoken,  when  Meagher  rose  to 
address  the  assembly.  The  speech  he  delivered  on  that  occa- 
sion, for  brilliancy  and  lyrical  grandeur  has  never  been  sur- 
passed. It  won  for  him  a  reception  far  transcending  that  of 
Shiel  or  O'Connell  as  an  orator ,  and  it  gave  to  him  the  title  by 
which  he  was  afterwards  so  often  referred  to — "  Meagher  of  the 
Sword."  He  commenced  by  expressing  his  sense  of  gratitude, 
and  his  attachment  to  O'Connell.     He  said : — 

"  My  Lord, — I  am  not  ungrateful  to  the  man  who  struck  the  fetters 
off  my  limbs  while  I  was  yet  a  child,  and  by  whose  influence  my  father, 
the  first  Catholic  that  did  so  for  two  hundred  years,  sat  for  the  last  two 
years  in  the  civic  chair  of  my  native  city.  But,  my  lord,"  he  continued, 
"the  same  God  who  gave  to  that  great  man  the  power  to  strike  down 
one  odious  ascendency  in  this  country,  and  who  enabled  him  to  insti- 
tute in  this  land  the  laws  of  religious  equality — the  same  God  gave  to 
me  a  mind  that  is  my  own,  a  mind  that  has  not  been  mortgaged  to  the 
opinion  of  any  man,  or  set  of  men,  a  mind  that  I  was  to  use  and  not 
surrender." 

Having  thus  vindicated  freedom  of  opinion,  the  speaker  went 
on  to  disclaim  for  himself  the  opinion  that  the  Association 
ought  to  deviate  from  the  strict  path  of  legality.  But  he  re- 
fused to  accept  the  resolutions ;  because,  he  said,  ''  there  are 
times  when  arms  alone  will  suffice,  and  when  political  ameliora- 
tions call  for  'a  drop  of  blood,'  and  for  many  thousand  drops 
of  blood."  Then  breaking  forth  into  a  strain  of  impassioned 
and  dazzling  oratory  he  proceeded  : — 

"The  soldier  is  proof  against  an  argument — but  he  is  not  proof 
against  a  bullet.  The  man  that  will  listen  to  reason — let  him  be  rea- 
soned with.  But  it  is  the  weaponed  arm  of  the  patriot  that  can  alone 
prevail  against  battalioned  despotism. 

"  Then,  my  lord,  I  do  not  condemn  the  use  of  arms  as  immoral, 
nor  do  I  conceive  it  profane  to  say  that  the  King  of  Heaven — the 
Lord  of  Hosts !  the  God  of  Battles  ! — bestows  his  benediction  upon 


132 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


those  who  unsheath  the  sword  in  the  hour  of  a  nation's  peril.  Froni 
that  evening  on  which,  in  the  valley  of  Bethulia,  he  nerved  the  arm 
of  the  Jewish  girl  to  smite  the  drunken  tyrant  in  his  tent,  down  to 
this  our  day,  in  which  he  has  blessed  the  insurgent  chivalry  of  the 
Belgian  priest,  His  Almighty  hand  hath  ever  been  stretched  forth 
from  His  throne  of  Light  to  consecrate  the  flag  of  freedom — to  bless 
the  patriot  sword  !  Be  it  in  the  defence,  or  be  it  in  the  assertion  of 
a  people's  liberty,  I  hail  the  sword  as  a  sacred  weapon  ;  and  if,  my 
lord,  it  had  sometimes  taken  the  shape  of  the  serpent,  and  reddened 
the  shroud  of  the  oppressor  with  too  deep  a  dye,  like  the  anointed  rod 
of  the  High  Priest,  it  has  at  other  times,  and  as  often,  blossomed  into 
celestial  flowers  to  deck  the  freeman's  brov/. 

"Abhor  the  sword — stigmatize  the  sword?  No,  my  lord,  for  in 
the  passes  of  the  Tyrol  it  cut  to  pieces  the  banner  of  the  Bavarian, 
and,  through  those  cragged  passes,  struck  a  path  to  fame  for  the  peas- 
ant insurrectionists  of  Inspruck  !  Abhor  the  sword — stigmatize  the 
sword  ?  No,  my  lord,  for  at  its  blow  a  giant  nation  started  from  the 
waters  of  the  Atlantic,  and  by  its  redeeming  magic,  and  in  the  quiver- 
ing of  its  crimsoned  light,  the  crippled  colony  sprang  into  the  attitude 
of  a  proud  Republic — prosperous,  limitless,  and  invincible  !  Abhor 
the  sword — stigmatize  the  sword  ?  No,  my  lord,  for  it  swept  the 
Dutch  marauders  out  of  the  fine  old  towns  of  Belgium — scourged 
them  back  to  their  own  phlegmatic  swamps — and  knocked  their  flag 
and  sceptre,  their  laws  and  bayonets,  into  the  sluggish  waters  of  the 
Scheldt. 

''  My  lord,  I  learned  that  it  was  the  right  of  a  nation  to  govern  it- 
self, not  in  this  hall,  but  on  the  ramparts  of  Antwerp  ;  I  learned  the 
first  article  of  a  nation's  creed  upon  those  ramparts,  where  freedom 
was  justly  estimated,  and  where  the  possession  of  the  precious  gift 
was  purchased  by  the  effusion  of  generous  blood.  My  lord,  I  honor 
the  Belgians  for  their  courage  and  their  daring,  and  I  will  not  stigma^ 
tize  the  means  by  which  they  obtained  a  citizen- king,  a  chamber  of 
deputies." 

It  was  all  he  was  permitted  to  say.  With  flushed  face  and 
excited  gesture  John  O'Connell  rose,  and  declared  he  could  not 
sit  and  listen  to  the  expression  of  such  sentiments.  Either  Mr. 
Meagher  or  he  should  leave  the  Association.  O'Brien  inter^ 
ceded  to  obtain  a  hearing  for  his  young  friend,  and  protested 
against  Mr.  O'Connell's  attempts  to  silence  him.  But  the  ap- 
peal was  wasted.  O'Brien  left  the  hall  in  disgust,  and  with  him 
Meagher,  Duffy,  Reilly,  and  Mitchel  quitted  it  forever. 

Meagher's  subsequent  career  in  Ireland  is  soon  told.  He 
was  a  regular  attendant  at  the  meetings  of  the  Confederation, 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK.  I^^ 

of  which  he  was  one  of  the  founders,  and  the  fame  of  his  elo- 
quence, his  manly  appearance,  and  the  charms  of  his  youthful 
frankness  contributed  immensely  towards  the  growth  of  the  new 
organization.  He  always  acted  with  O'Brien,  whom  he  loved 
in  his  inmost  soul,  but  he  was  respected  and  admired  by  every 
section  of  nationalists,  the  Mitchelites,  the  Duffyites,  and  we 
might  even  say  the  O'Connellites.  When  the  country  began  to 
feel  the  influence  of  the  whirlwind  of  revolution  which  swept 
over  the  continent,  overturning  thrones  and  wrecking  constitu- 
tions as  if  they  were  built  of  cardboard,  Meagher  shared  the 
wild  impulse  of  the  hour,  and  played  boldly  for  insurrection 
and  separation.  He  was  one  of  the  three  gentlemen  appointed 
to  present  the  address  from  Ireland  to  the  French  Republican 
government  in  1848  ;  and  in  the  speech  delivered  by  him  at 
the  crowded  meeting  in  the  Dublin  Music  Hall  before  his  de- 
parture, he  counselled  his  countrymen  to  send  a  deputation  to 
the  Queen,  asking  her  to  convene  the  Irish  Parliament  in  the 
Irish  capital.  "  If  the  claim  be  rejected,"  said  Meagher,  "if 
the  throne  stand  as  a  barrier  between  the  Irish  people  and  the 
supreme  right — then  loyalty  will  be  a  crime,  and  obedience  to 
the  executive  will  be  treason  to  the  country.  Depute  your 
worthiest  citizens  to  approach  the  throne,  and  before  that 
throne  let  the  will  of  the  Irish  people  be  uttered  with  dignity 
and  decision.  If  nothing  comes  of  this,"  he  added,  "if  the  con- 
stitution opens  to  us  no  path  to  freedom,  if  the  Union  be  main- 
tained in  spite  of  the  will  of  the  Irish  people,  if  the  government 
of  Ireland  insist  on  being  a  government  of  dragoons  and  bom- 
badiers,  of  detectives  and  light  infantry,  then,"  he  exclaimed, 
in  the  midst  of  tumultuous  cheering,  "  up  with  the  barricades^ 
and  invoke  the  God  of  Battles  !" 

While  the  Republican  spirit  was  in  full  glow  in  Ireland, 
Meagher  astonished  his  friends  by  rushing  down  to  Waterford 
and  offering  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  post  left  vacant  in 
parliament  by  the  resignation  of  O'Connell.  By  this  time  the 
Confederates  had  begun  to  despair  of  a  parliamentary  policy, 
and  they  marvelled  much  to  see  their  young  orator  rush  to  the 


j^.  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK, 

hustings,  and  throw  himself  Into  the  confusion  and  turmoil   of 
an  election  contest.     Que  le  diable  allait  il  fair e  dans  cette galere^ 
muttered  his  Dublin  friends.     Was  not  the  time  for  hustings 
orations,  and  parliamentary  agitation    over  now?      Meagher, 
however,  conceived,  and  perhaps  wisely,  that  he  could  still    do 
some  good  for  his  country  in  the  House  of  Commons.     He  is- 
sued a  noble  address  to  the  electors  of  his  native  city,  in  which 
he  asked  for  their  support  on  the  most  patriotic  grounds.     "  I 
shall  not  meddle,"  he  said,  ''  with    English  affairs.     I  shall  take 
no  part  in  the  strife  of  parties — all  factions  are  alike  to  me.     I 
shall  go  to  the  House  of  Commons  to   insist   on  the  rights   of 
this  country  to  be  held,  governed,  and  defended  by  its  own  citi- 
zens, and  by  them  alone.     Whilst  I  live  I  shall  never  rest  satis- 
fied until  the   kingdom   of  Ireland   has  won    a  Parliament,  ar 
army,  and  a  navy  of  her  own."     Mitchel   strongly  disapproved 
of  his  conduct.     ''If  Mr.   Meagher  were  in   Parliament,"  said 
the  United  Irishman,  "  men's  eyes  would  be   attracted    thither 
once  more;  some  hope  of  'justice'    might  again  revive  in  this 
loo  easily  deluded  people."     The  proper  men  to  send  to  Par- 
liament were,  according  to  Mitchel,  "old  placemen,  prisoners, 
five-pound  Conciliation    Hall  Repealers."     "  We  have  no  wish 
to  dictate,"  concluded  Mitchel,  in  an  article  on  the  subject,  full 
of  the  lurking  satire  and   quiet  humor  that  leavened    his  writ- 
ings, "but  if  the  electors  of  Waterford  have  any  confidence  in 
us,  we  shall  only  say  that  we  are  for  Costello  !" 

"  Costello"  was  defeated,  however,  but  so  was  Meagher.  The 
Young  Ireland  champion  was  stigmatized  as  a  Tory  by  the 
Whigs,  and  as  a  rebel  by  the  Tories;  if  the  people,  as  Mitchel 
remarks,  had  any  power  he  would  have  been  elected  by  an  over- 
whelming majority,  but  the  people  had  no  votes,  and  Sir  Henry 
Winston  Barron  was  returned.  Meagher  went  back  to  Dublin 
almost  a  convert  to  Mitchel's  views,  leaving  Whig,  Tory,  and 
West  Briton  to  exult  over  his  discomfiture. 

We  have  already  seen  what  Meagher  did  when  the  gauge  of 
battle  was  thrown  down,  and  when  "  the  day  all  hearts  to 
vveigh"  was  imagined  to  have  arrived,  we  have  seen  how  he  ag- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


135 


companied  O'Brien  in  his  expedition  from  Wexford  to  Kil- 
kenny, and  thence  to  Tipperary ;  and  how,  on  the  morning  of 
July  29th,  1848,  he  left  O'Brien  at  Ballingarry,  little  dreaming 
of  the  tragedy  which  was  to  make  that  day  memorable,  and 
expecting  to  able  to  bring  reinforcements  to  his  leader  from 
other  quarters  before  the  crisis  came.  He  failed,  however,  in 
his  effort  to  spread  the  flames  of  insurrection.  The  chilling 
news  of  O'Brien's  defeat — distorted  and  exaggerated  by  hostile 
tongues — was  before  him  everywhere,  and  even  the  most  reso- 
lute of  his  sympathizers  had  sense  enough  to  see  that  their 
opportunity — if  it  existed  at  all— had  passed  away.  On  the 
1 2th  day  of  August,  1848,  Meagher  was  arrested  on  the 
road  between  Clonoulty  and  Holycross,  in  Tipperary.  He  was 
walking  along  in  company  with  Patrick  O'Uonoghue  and 
Maurice  R.  Leyne,  two  of  his  intimate  friends  and  fellow-out- 
laws, when  a  party  of  police  passed  them  by.  Neither  of  the 
three  was  disguised,  but  Meagher  and  Leyne  wore  frieze  over- 
coats, which  somewhat  altered  their  usual  appearance.  After  a 
short  time  the  police  returned  ;  Meagher  and  his  companions 
gave  their  real  names  on  being  interrogated,  and  they  were  at 
once  arrested,  and  taken  in  triumph  to  Thurles.  The  three 
friends  bore  their  ill-fortune  with  what  their  captors  must  have 
considered  provoking  nonchalance.  Meagher  smoked  a  cigar 
on  the  way  to  the  station,,  and  the  trio  chatted  as  gaily  as  if 
they  were  walking  in  safety  on  the  free  soil  of  America,  instead 
of  being  helpless  prisoners  on  their  way  to  captivity  and  exile. 
Meagher  stood  in  the  dock  at  Clonmel  a  week  after  O'Brien 
had  quitted  it  a  convict.  He  was  defended  by  Mr.  Whiteside 
and  Isaac  Butt,  whose  magnificent  speech  in  his  defence  was 
perhaps  the  most  brilliant  display  of  forensic  eloquence  ever 
heard  within  the  court  in  which  he  stood.  Of  course  the  jury 
vvas  packed  (only  eighteen  Catholics  were  named  on  a  jury- 
panel  of  three  hundred),  and  of  course  the  crown  carried  its 
point.  On  the  close  of  the  sixth  day  of  the  trial,  the  jury  re- 
turned into  court  with  a  verdict  of  "  guilty,"  recommending 
the  prisoner  to  mercy  on  the  ground  of  his  youth. 


136  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

Two  days  later  he  was  brought  back  to  the  dock  to  receive 
sentence.  He  was  dressed  in  his  usual  style,  appeared  in  ex- 
cellent health,  and  bore  himself — we  are  told — throughout  the 
trying  ordeal,  with  fortitude  and  manly  dignity.  He  spoke  as 
follows : — 

**  My  Lords, — it  is  my  intention  to  say  a  few  words  only.     I  desire 
that  the  last  act  of  a  proceeding  which  has  occupied  so  much  of  the 
public  time,  should  be  of  short  duration.     Nor  have  I  the  indelicate 
wish  to  inclose  the  dreary  ceremony  of  a  state  prosecution  with  a  vain 
display  of  words.     Did  I  fear  that  hereafter,  when  I  shall  be  no  more, 
the  country  I   tried  to  serve    would   speak  ill  of  me,  I  might,  indeed, 
avail  myself  of   this  solemn   moment   to  vindicate  my  sentiments  and 
my  conduct.     But  I  have  no  such  fear.     The  country  will  judge  of  tho^  e 
sentiments  and  that  conduct  in  a  light  far  different  from  that  in  which 
the  jury  by  whom   I  have  been  convicted  have  viewed    them,   and 
by  the   country  the  sentence    which   you,    my  lords,   are    about   to 
pronounce,    will   be    remembered    only    as    the    severe    and    solemn 
attestation  of  my  rectitude  and  truth.      Whatever  be    the  language 
in  which  that  sentence  be   spoken,  I   know  that  my  fate  will  meet 
with  sympathy,  and  that   my  memory  will   be  honored.     In  speaking 
thus,  my  lords,  accuse   me  not   of  an  indecorous  presumption  in  the 
efforts  I  have  made  in  a    just  and  noble  cause.      I   ascribe  no  main 
importance,  nor  do  I  claim  for  those  efforts  any  high   reward.     But  it 
so  happens,  and  it  will  ever  happen   so,   that  they  who  have  lived 
to  serv^e  their   country — no  matter  how  weak  their  efforts  may  have 
been — are  sure  to   receive  the   thanks    and    blessings  of   its  people. 
With  my  countrymen   I   leave  my  memory,  my  sentiments,  my  acts, 
proudly  feeling  that  they  require   no  vindication   from  me  this  day. 
A  jury  of  my  countrymen,  it  is  true,  have   found  me  guilty  of  the 
crime  of  which   I  stood  indicted.     For  this  I  entertain  not  the  slight- 
est feeling  of   resentment  towards    them.     Influenced  as    they  must 
have  been  by  the  charge  of  the  Lord  Chief- Justice,  they  could  perhaps 
have  found  no  other  verdict.     What  of  that  charge  ?     Any  strong  ob- 
servations on  it  I  feel  sincerely  would   ill  befit  the  solemnity  of  this 
scene  ;  but  I  would  earnestly  beseech  of  you,  my  lord — you  who  pre- 
side on  that  bench — when  the  passions  and  the  prejudices  of  this  hour 
have  passed  away,  to  appeal  to  your  own  conscience,  and  ask  of  it, 
was  your  charge  what  it  ought  to  have  been,  impartial  and  indifferent 
between  the  subject  and  the  crown  ?     My  lords,  you   may  deem  this 
language  unbecoming  in  me,  and  perhaps  it  may  seal  my  fate  ;  but  I 
am  here  to  speak  the  truth,  whatever  it  may  cost — I  am  here  to  regret 
nothing  I  have  ever   done,  to  regret  nothing  I  have   ever   said — I  am 
here  to  crave  with  no  lying  lip  the  life  I  consecrate  to  the  liberty  of 
my  country,     Far  from  it.     Even  here — here,  where  the  thief,  the  lib* 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


137 


ertine,  the  murderer,  have  left  their  foot-prints  in  the  dust — here,  on 
this  spot,  where  the  shadows  of  death  surround  me,  and  from  which  I 
see  my  early  grave  in  an  unanointed  soil  open  to  receive  me — even 
here,  encircled  by  these  terrors,  that  hope  which  first   beckoned  me  to 
the   perilous   sea  on  which  I   have   been   wrecked,  still   consoles,  ani- 
mates, and   enraptures   me.     No  ;  I    do   not  despair  of  my  poor  old 
country — her  peace,  her  liberty,  her  glory.     For  that  country  I  can  do 
no  more  than  bid  her  hope.     To  lift  this  island   up — to  make  her  a 
benefactor  to  humanity,  instead  of  being,  as  she  is  now,  the  meanest 
beggar  in  the  world — to  restore  to  her  her  native  powers  and  her  an- 
cient constitution — this  has  been  my  ambition,  and  this  ambition  has 
been  m.y  crime.     Judged  by  the  law  of  England,  I  know  this  crime 
entails  upon  me  the  penalty  of  death  ;  but  the  history  of  Ireland  ex- 
plains that  crime  and  justifies  it.      Judged  by  that  history,  I   am  no 
criminal,  you  (addressing  Mr.  MacManus)  are  no  criminal,  you  (addres- 
sing Mr.  O'Donoghue)  are    no   criminal,  and   we  deserve  no  punish- 
ment ;  judged  by  that  history,  the  treason  of  which  I  stand  convicted 
loses  all  its  guilt,  has  been  sanctified  as  a  duty,  and  will  be  enobled  as 
a  sacrifice.     With  these  sentiments   I  await  the  sentence  of  the  court. 
I  have  done  what  I  felt  to  be  my  duty.     I  have  spoken  new,  as  I  did 
on  every  other   occasion    during    my  short  life,  what  I  felt  to  be   the 
truth.     I  now  bid  farewell  to  the  country  of  my  birth — of  my  passions 
— of  my  death  ;   a  country  whose  misfortunes  have   invoked  my  sym- 
pathies— whose    factions    I    sought     to    quell — whose    intelligence    I 
prompted  to  a  lofty  aim — whose  freedom   has  been  my  fatal  dream. 
To  that  country  I  now  offer,  as  a  pledge  of  the  love  I  bore  her,  and  of 
the  sincerity  with    which  I  thought   and  spoke,  and  struggled  for  her 
freedom,  the  life  of  a  young  heart  ;  and  with  that  life,  the  hopes,  the 
honors,  the   endearments    of   a  happy,  a   prosperous,   and    honorable 
home.      Proceed   then,  my    lords,  with  that  sentence  which  the   law 
directs — I  am  prepared   to  hear  it — I  trust   I  am  prepared  to  meet   its 
execution.     I  shall  go,  I  think,  with  a  light  heart  before  a  higher  trib- 
unal, a  tribunal  where  a  Judge  of  infinite  goodness,  as  well  as  of  infinite 
justice,  will  preside,  and  where,  my  lords,  many,  many  of  the  judg- 
ments of  this  world  will  be  reversed." 

There  is  little  more  for  us  to  add.  Meagher  arrived  with 
O'Brien,  O'Donoghue,  and  MacManus  in  Van  Diemen's  Land  in 
October,  1849,  and  escaped  to  America  in  1852.  He  started  the 
Irish  News  in  New  York,  which  he  enriched  by  personal  recol- 
lections of  the  stirring  scenes  in  which  he  participated ;  but 
his  career  as  a  journalist  closed  abruptly  with  the  outbreak  of 
the  war  of  secession,  when  he  raised  a  zouave  company  to 
join  Corcoran's  69th  Regiment,  with  which  he  fought  gallantly 


138 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


at  Bull  Run.  Every  one  remembers  how  the  gallantry  of  the 
Irish  regiment  in  which  Meagher  served  saved  the  Federal 
forces  from  annihilation  on  that  field  of  disaster.  Subsequently 
he  raised  and  commanded  the  Irish  Brigade,  which  won  imper- 
ishable laurels  throughout  the  hard-fought  campaigns  that  ended 
with  the  capture  of  Richmond.  When  Mr.  Johnson  became 
President  of  the  United  States,  he  appointed  Meagher  to  the 
position  of  Governor  of  Montana  Territory,  in  the  far  West,  a 
post  which  he  held  until  his  death. 

His  end  was  sad  and  sudden.  One  dark,  wild  night  in  July, 
1867,  a  gentleman  suddenly  disappeared  from  the  deck  of  the 
steamer  on  which  he  was  standing,  and  fell  into  the  great  Mis- 
souri, where  it  winds  its  course  by  the  hills  of  Montana.  The 
accident  was  too  sudden  for  availing  assistance.  A  sudden  slip, 
a  splash,  a  faint  cry,  a  brief  struggle,  and  all  was  over  ;  the 
hungry  waters  closed  over  him,  and  the  rapid  rolling  current 
swept  away  his  lifeless  corpse.  The  finished  scholar,  the  genial 
friend,  the  matchless  orator,  the  ardent  patriot  was  no  more. 
Thomas  Francis  Meagher  was  dead. 


KEVIN  IZOD  O'DOHERTY. 


NOTHER  bold,  clever,  and  resolute  opponent  of 
British  rule  in  Ireland  was  torn  from  the  ranks  of  the 
popular  leaders  on  the  day  that  Kevin  Izod  O'Doherty 
was  arrested.  Amongst  the  cluster  of  talented  and 
able  men  who  led  the  Young  Ireland  phalanx,  he  was 
distinguished  for  his  spirit  and  his  mental  accom- 
plishments; amongst  the  organizers  of  the  party  his  ready 
words,  manly  address,  and  ceaseless  activity  gave  him  a  prom- 
inent position  ,  amongst  its  journalists  he  was  conspicuous  for 
fearlessness,  frankness,  and  ability.     Over  the  surging  waves  of 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


139 


the  excitement  and  agitation  that  convulsed  the  country  during 
the  period  which  ended  with  the  affray  at  BalHngarry,  and 
through  the  haze  which  time  has  cast  over  the  attempted  revo- 
lution of  '48,  his  figure  looms  up  in  bold  proportions,  sug- 
gestive of  mental  capacity,  fortitude  of  soul,  and  tenacity  of 
purpose.  For  him,  as  for  many  of  his  brilliant  associates,  the 
paths  of  patriotism  led  down  to  proscription  and  pain;  but 
O'Doherty  fulminating  the  thunderbolts  of  the  Tribune^  or  sow- 
ing the  seeds  of  patriotism  amongst  the  students  of  Dublin, 
was  not  one  whit  more  self-possessed  or  undaunted  than  when 
standing  a  convict  in  the  Green  Street  dock,  he  awaited  the 
sentence  of  the  court. 

Kevin  Izod  O'Doherty  was  born  of  respectable  Catholic  par^ 
ents  in  Dublin,  in  June,  1824.  He  received  a  liberal  education, 
by  which  he  profited  ex  tensively,  showing  even  in  his  school- 
days strong  evidences  of  natural  ability,  and  talents  of  more 
than  average  degree.  Redirected  his  attention  to  the  medical 
profession  on  completing  his  education,  and  was  in  the  full  tide 
of  lectures  and  hospital  attendance  when  the  development  of 
the  national  sentiment  that  pervaded  the  year  '48  drew  him 
into  the  vortex  of  public  life.  He  became  a  hard-working  and 
enthusiastic  member  of  the  Young  Ireland  party,  and  was  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  Students'  and  Polytechnic  Clubs,  which 
were  regarded  by  the  leaders  in  Dublin  as  the  dite  of  the  na- 
tional force  in  the  capital.  When  Mitchel  was  struck  down  and 
his  paper  suppressed,  O'Doherty  was  one  of  those  who  re- 
solved that  the  political  guidance  which  ihtUiiited  IrishmanvfdiS 
meant  to  afford,  should  not  be  wanting  to  the  people.  In  con- 
junction with  Richard  Dalton  Williams — ''  Shamrock,"  of  the 
Nation — he  establisned  the  Irish  Tribune,  the  first  number  of 
which  saw  the  light  on  the  lOth  of  June,  1848.  There  could 
be  no  mistake  about  the  objects  of  the  Tribune,  or  the  motives 
of  its  founders  in  establishing  it.  The  British  government 
could  ill  afford  to  endure  the  attacks  on  their  exactions  and 
usurpations  thundered  forth  weekly  in  its  articles.  Its  career  was 
^ut  short  by  the  mailed  hand  of  authority  at  its  fifth  number  and 


J  .Q  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCJC, 

on  the  loth  of  July,  '48,  Kevin  Izod  O'Doherty  was  an  inmate 
of  Newgate  prison. 

On  the  the  loth  of  August  he  was  placed  at  the  bar  of  Green 
Street  court-house,  and  arraigned  on  a  charge  of  treason-felony, 
and  a  vigorous  effort  was  made  by  the  crown  to  convict  him. 
The  attempt,  however,  was  a  failure ;  the  jury-panel  had  not 
been  juggled  as  effectively  as  usual,  and  a  disagreement  of  the 
jury  was  the  consequence.  The  crown,  however,  had  no  idea 
of  relaxing  its  grasp  of  its  victim  ;  after  John  Martin's  convic- 
tion, O'Doherty  was  put  forward  again,  and  a  new  jury  selected 
to  try  him.  Again  were  the  government  defeated  ;  the  second 
jury,  like  the  first,  refused  to  agree  to  a  verdict  of  guilty,  and 
were  discharged  without  convicting  the  prisoner.  A  third  time 
was  O'Doherty  arraigned,  and  this  time  the  relentless  hatred 
of  his  persecutors  was  gratified  by  a  verdict  of  guilty.  The 
speech  delivered  by  Mr.  O'Doherty  after  conviction  was  as 
follows : — 

'*  My  Lords — I  did  hope,  I  confess,  that  upon  being  placed  in  this 
dock  for  the  third  time,  after  two  juries  of  my  fellow-citizens  had  re- 
fused to  find  a  verdict  against  me,  that  while  my  prosecutors  would 
have  been  scrupulous  in  their  care  in  attempting  to  uphold  their  law, 
they  would  not  have  violated  the  very  spirit  of  justice." 

Judge  Crampton. — '*  I  have  a  great  difficulty  in  preventing  you  from 
making  any  observations  that  may  occur  to  you  to  be  of  service  ;  but 
if  you  mean  to  cast  imputations  or  obloquy  upon  the  law  officers  of 
the  crown,  the  court  cannot  permit  that," 

Mr.  O'Doherty. — *'  I  only  wish  to  mention  a  matter  of  fact.  The 
Attorney-General  stated  that  there  were  only  three  Roman  Catholics 
set  aside  on  my  jury." 

Judge  Crampton  again  interposed,  and  requested  the  prisoner  not 
to  pursue  this  line  of  observation. 

Mr.  O'Doherty. — "I  would  feel  much  obliged  if  your  lordship 
would  permit  me  to  mention  a  few  more  words  with  reference  to  my 
motives  throughout  this  affair. 

"I  had  but  one  object  and  purpose  in  view.  I  did  feel  deeply  for 
the  sufferings  and  privations  endured  by  my  fellow-countrymen.  I 
did  wish  by  all  means,  consistent  with  a  manly  and  honorable  resist- 
ance to  assist  in  putting  an  end  to  that  suffering.  It  is  very  true,  and 
I  will  confess  it,  that  I  desired  an  open  resistance  of  the  people  to 
that  government,  which,  in  my  opinion,  entailed  these  sufferings  upon 
them.     I  have  used  the  words  open  and  honorable  resistance,  in  ordef 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 


141 


that  I  might  refer  to  one  of  the  articles  brought  in  evidence  against 
me,  in  which  the  writer  suggests  such  things  as  flinging  burning  hoops 
on  the  soldiery.  My  lords,  these  are  no  sentiments  of  mine.  I  did 
not  write  that  article,  I  did  not  see  it,  or  know  of  it  until  I  read 
it  when  published  in  the  paper.  But  I  did  not  bring  the  writer 
of  it  here  on  the  table.  Why  ?  I  knew  that  if  I  were  to  do 
so,  it  would  be  only  handing  him  over  at  the  court-house  doors 
to  what  one  of  the  witnesses  has  very  properly  called  the  fangs  of 
the  Attorney-General.  With  respect  to  myself  I  have  no  fears.  I 
trust  I  will  be  enabled  to  bear  my  sentence  with  all  the  forbearance 
due  to  what  I  believe  to  be  the  opinion  of  twelve  conscientious 
enemies  to  me,  and  I  will  bear  with  due  patience  the  wrath  of  the 
government  whose  mouthpiece  they  were  ;  but  I  will  never  cease  to 
deplore  the  destiny  that  gave  me  birth  in  this  unhappy  country,  and 
compelled  me,  as  an  Irishman,  to  receive  at  your  hands  a  felon's  doom, 
for  discharging  what  I  conceived — and  what  I  still  conceive,  to  be  my 
duty.  I  shall  only  add,  that  the  fact  is,  that  instead  of  three  Roman 
Catholic  jurors  being  set  aside  by  the  Attorney-General,  there  were 
thirteen  ;  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  list  of  their  names,  and  out  of  the 
twelve  jurors  he  permitted  to  be  sworn,  there  was  not  one  Roman 
Catholic." 

Mr.  O'Doherty  was  sentenced  to  transportation  for  ten 
years.  He  sailed  for  Van  Diemen's  Land  in  the  same  ship 
that  bore  John  Martin  into  exile.  In  the  course  of  time  he, 
like  Martin  and  O'Brien,  was  set  at  liberty  on  condition 
of  his  residing  anywhere  out  of  "  the  United  Kingdom."  He 
came  on  to  Paris,  and  there  resumed  his  medical  studies.  He 
paid,  however,  one  secret  and  hurried  visit  to  Ireland.  He 
came  to  wed  and  bear  away  with  him,  to  share  his  fortune  in 
other  lands,  a  woman  in  every  way  worthy  of  him — one  whose 
genius  and  talents,  like  his  own,  had  been  freely  given  to  the 
cause  of  Ireland,  and  whose  heart  had  long  been  his  in  the 
bonds  of  a  most  tender  attachment.  "  Eva,"  one  of  the  fair 
poetesses  of  the  Nation^  was  the  plighted  wife  of  O'Doherty. 
Terrible  must  have  been  the  shock  to  her  gentle  nature  when  her 
patriot  lover  was  borne  off  a  convict,  and  shipped  for  England's 
penal  settlements  in  the  far  southern  seas.  She  believed,  how- 
ever, they  would  meet  again,  and  she  knew  that  neither  time 
nor  distance  could  chill  the  ardor  of  their  mutual  affection.  The 
volumes  of  the  Nation  published  during  his  captivity  contain 


142 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


many  exquisite  lyrics  from  her  pen  mourning  for  the  absent  one, 
with  others  expressive  of  unchanging  affection,  and  the  most  in- 
tense faith  in  the  truth  of  her  distant  lover.  ''  The  course  of  true 
love"  in  this  case  ended  happily.  O'Doherty,  as  we  have  stated, 
managed  to  slip  across  from  Paris  to  Ireland,  and  returned 
with  ''Eva"  his  bride.  In  1856  the  pardons  granted  to  the 
exiles  above-named  was  made  unconditional,  and  in  the  follow- 
ing year  O'Doherty  returned  to  Ireland,  where  he  took  out  his 
degrees  with  great  eclat;  he  then  commenced  the  practice  of 
medicine  and  surgery  in  Dublin,  and  soon  came  to  be  ranked 
amongst  the  most  distinguished  and  successful  members  of  his 
profession.  After  remaining  some  years  in  Ireland,  Mr. 
O'Doherty  sailed  far  away  seawards  once  again,  and  took  up 
his  abode  under  the  light  of  the  Southern  Cross.  He  settled 
in  a  rising  colony  of  Australia,  where  he  still  lives,  surrounded 
by  troops  of  friends,  and  enjoying  the  position  to  which  his 
talents  and  his  high  character  entitled  him. 


TERENCE  BELLEW  MacMANUS. 

HE  excitement  caused  by  the  startling  events  of  which 
this  country  was  the  scene  in  the  summer  of  1848  ex- 
tended far  beyond  the  shores  of  Ireland.  Away  be- 
yond the  Atlantic  the  news  from  Ireland  was  watched 
for  with  glistening  eyes,  by  the  exiles  who  dwelt  by 
the  shores  of  Manhattan,  or  in  the  backwoods  of 
Canada.  Amongst  the  Irish  colony  in  England  the  agitation 
was  still  greater.  Dwelling  in  the  hearts  of  the  monster  town 
of  England  the  glow  of  the  furnace  lighting  up  their  swarthy 
faces;  toiling  on  the  canals,  on  the  railways,  in  the  steam- 
boats; filling  the  factories,  plying  their  brawny  hands  where 
the  hardest  work  was  to  be  done :  hewers  of  wood,  and  drawen 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


143 


of  water ;  living  in  the  midst  of  the  English,  yet  separated 
from  them  by  all  the  marks  of  a  distinctive  nationality,  by 
antagonistic  feelings,  by  clashing  interests,  by  jarring  creeds, 
such  was  the  position  of  the  men  who  carried  the  faith,  the 
traditions,  the  politics,  and  the  purpose  of  Ireland  into  the 
heart  of  the  enemy's  country.  With  their  countrymen 
at  home  they  were  united  by  the  warmest  ties  of  sympathy 
and  affection.  In  London,  in  Manchester,  in  Birmingham,  in 
Leeds,  Confederate  Clubs  were  established,  and  active  meas- 
ures taken  for  co-operating  with  the  Young  Ireland  leaders  in 
whatever  course  they  might  think  proper  to  adopt.  In  Liver- 
pool those  clubs  were  organized  on  the  most  extensive  scale, 
thousands  of  Irishmen  attended  their  weekly  meetings,  and 
speeches  rivalling  those  delivered  at  the  Rotundo  and  at  the 
Music  Hall  in  fervor  and  earnestness  were  spoken  from  their 
platforms.  Amongst  the  Irishmen  who  figured  prominently  at 
these  gatherings  there  was  one  to  whom  the  Irish  in  Liverpool 
looked  up  with  peculiar  confidence  and  pride.  He  was  young, 
he  was  accomplished,  he  was  wealthy,  he  filled  a  highly  respec- 
table position  in  society ;  his  name  was  connected  by  every  one 
with  probity  and  honor ;  and,  above  all,  he  was  a  nationalist, 
unselfish,  enthusiastic,  and  ardent.  The  Irishmen  of  Liverpool 
will  not  need  to  be  told  that  we  speak  of  Terence  Bellew 
MacManus. 

The  agitation  of  1848  found  MacManus  in  good  business  as  a 
shipping  agent,  his  income  being  estimated  by  his  Liverpool 
friends  at  ten  or  twelve  hundred  a  year.  His  patriotism  was 
of  too  genuine  a  nature  to  be  merged  in  his  commercial  suc- 
cess, and  MacManus  readily  abandoned  his  prospects  and  his 
position  when  his  country  seemed  to  require  the  sacrifice.  In- 
stantly on  discovering  that  the  government  was  about  to  sus- 
pend the  habeas  corpus  act  in  Ireland,  he  took  the  steamer 
for  Dublin,  bringing  with  him  the  green  and  gold  uniform 
which  he  owned  in  virtue  of  being  a  general  of  the  '82  Club. 
In  the  same  steamer  came  two  detectives,  sent  specially  to 
lecure  his  arrest  in  Dublin.     MacManus  drove  from  the  quay, 


144 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


where  he  landed,  to  the  Felon  office.  He  discovered  that  all 
the  Confederate  leaders  out  of  prison  had  gone  southwards 
on  hostile  thoughts  intent;  and  MacManus  resolved  on  joining 
them  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  Having  managed  to 
give  the  detectives  the  slip,  he  journeyed  southwards  to  Tip. 
perary,  and  joined  O'Brien's  party  at  Killenaulc.  He  shared 
the  fortunes  of  the  insurgent  leaders  until  the  dispersion  at 
Ballingarry,  where  he  fought  with  conspicuous  bravery  and 
determination.  He  was  the  first  to  arrive  before  the  house  in 
which  the  police  took  refuge,  and  the  last  to  leave  it.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  P.P.,  an  eye-witness,  gives  an  interesting 
account  of  MacManus*  conduct  during  the  attack  on  the  Widow 
M'Cormick's  house.     He  says: — 

"  With  about  a  dozen  men  more  determined  than  the  rest  was  Mac- 
Manus, who  indeed  throughout  the  whole  day  showed  more  courage 
and  resolution  than  any  one  else.  With  a  musket  in  his  hand,  and  in 
the  face  of  the  enemy,  he  reconnoitered  the  place,  and  observed  every 
accessible  approach  to  the  house,  and  wii^h  a  few  colliers,  undercover 
of  a  cart-load  of  hay,  which  they  pushed  on  before  them,  came  up  to 
the  postern-door  of  the  kitchen.  Here  with  his  own  hand  he  fired 
several  pistol-shots,  to  make  it  ignite,  but  from  the  state  of  the  weather, 
which  was  damp  and  heavy,  and  from  the  constant  down-pour  of  rain 
on  the  previous  day,  this  attempt  proved  quite  unsuccessful.  With 
men  so  expert  at  the  use  of  the  pickaxe,  and  so  large  a  supply  of  blast- 
ing-powder at  the  collieries,  he  could  have  quickly  undermined  the 
house,  or  blown  it  up  ;  but  the  circumstance  of  so  many  children 
being  shut  in  with  the  police,  and  the  certainty  that,  if  they  perse- 
vered, all  would  be  involved  in  the  same  ruin,  compelled  him  and  his 
associates  to  desist  from  their  purpose." 

When  it  became  useless  to  offer  further  resistance,  Mac- 
Manus retired  with  the  peasantry  to  the  hills,  and  dwelt  with 
them  for  several  days.  Having  shaved  off  his  whiskers,  and 
made  some  other  changes  in  his  appearance,  he  succeeded  in 
running  the  gauntlet  through  the  host  of  spies  and  detectives  on 
his  trail,  and  he  was  actually  on  board  a  large  vessel  on  the 
point  of  sailing  for  America  from  Cork  harbor  when  arrested 
by  the  police.  His  discovery  was  purely  accidental ;  the  police 
boarded  the  vessel  in  chase  of  an  absconding  defaulter,  but 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  1 45 

while  prosecuting  the  search  one  of  the  constables  who  had 
seen  MacManus  occasionally  in  Liverpool  recognized  him.  At 
first  he  gave  his  name  as  O'Donnell,  said  he  was  an  Irish- 
American  returning  westward,  after  visiting  his  friends  in  the 
old  land.  His  answers,  however,  were  not  sufficiently  consis- 
tent to  dissipate  the  constable's  suspicion.  He  was  brought 
ashore  and  taken  handcuffed  before  a  magistrate,  whereupon 
he  avowed  his  name,  and  boldly  added  that  he  did  not  regret 
any  act  he  had  done,  and  would  cheerfully  go  through  it  again. 
On  the  lOth  of  October,  1848,  he  was  brought  to  trial  for 
high  treason  in  Cloniiiel.  He  viewed  the  whole  proceedings 
with  calm  indifference,  and  when  the  verdict  of  guilty  was 
brought  in  he  heard  the  announcement  with  unaltered  mien. 
A  fortnight  later  he  was  brought  up  to  receive  sentence ; 
Meagher  and  O'Donoghue  had  been  convicted  in  the  interim, 
and  the  three  CGSi^ederates  stood  side  by  side  in  the  dock  to 
hear  the  doom  of  the  traitor  pronounced  against  them.  Mac- 
Manus  was  the  first  to  speak  in  reply  to  the  usual  formality, 
and  his  address  was  as  follows  : — 

"  My  Lords, — I  trust  I  am  enough  of  a  Christian,  and  enough  of 
a  man,  to  understand  the  awful  responsibility  of  the  question  which  has 
been  put  to  me.  Standing  upon  my  native  soil — standing  in  an  Irish 
court  of  justice,  and  before  the  Irish  nation — I  have  much  to  say  why 
the  sentence  of  death,  or  the  sentence  of  the  law,  should  not  be  passed 
upon  me,  But  upon  entering  into  this  court  I  placed  my  life — 
and  what  is  of  more  importance  to  me,  my  honor — in  the  hands  of 
two  advocates,  and  if  I  had  ten  thousand  lives  and  ten  thousand  hon- 
ors, I  should  be  content  to  place  them  all  in  the  watchful  and  glorious 
genius  of  the  one,  and  the  patient  zeal  and  talent  of  the  other.  I  am, 
therefore,  content,  and  with  regard  to  that  I  have  nothing  to  say.  But 
I  have  a  word  to  say,  which  no  advocate,  however  anxious  and  de- 
voted he  may  be,  can  utter  for  me.  I  say,  whatever  part  I  may  have 
taken  in  the  struggle  for  my  country's  independence,  whatever  part  I 
may  have  acted  in  my  short  career,  I  stand  before  you,  my  lords,  with 
a  free  heart  and  a  light  conscience,  to  abide  the  issue  of  your  sentence. 
And  now,  my  lords,  this  is,  perhaps,  the  fittest  time  to  put  a  sentence 
upon  record,  which  is  this — that  standing  in  this  dock,  and  called  to 
ascend  the  scaffold — it  may  be  to-morrow — it  may  be  now — it  may  be 
never — whatever  the  result  may  be,  I  wish  to  put  this  on  record,  that 
in  the  part  I  have  taken  I  was  not  actuated  by  enmity  towards  English' 


14^  SPEECHES  FR  OM  THE  DOCK. 

men — for  among  them  T  have  passed  some  of  the  happiest  days  of  m^ 
life,  and  the  most  prosperous  ;  and  in  no  part  which  I  have  taken  was 
I  actuated  by  enmity  towards  Englishmen  individually,  whatever  I 
may  have  felt  of  the  injustice  of  English  rule  in  this  island  ;  I  there* 
fore  say,  that  it  is  not  because  I  loved  England  less,  but  because  I 
loved  Ireland  more,  that  I  know  stand  before  you.** 

In  1 85 1,  MacManus  escaped  from  captivity  in  Van  Diemen's 
Land,  and  he  soon  after  settled  in  CaliTornia,  v^^here  he  died. 
His  funeral  was  the  greatest  ever  witnessed  upon  earth.  From 
the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  thousands  of  miles  away,  across  con- 
tinents and  oceans  they  brought  him,  and  laid  his  ashes  to  rest 
in  the  land  of  his  birth.  On  the  loth  day  of  November,  1861, 
that  wonderful  funeral  passed  through  the  streets  of  Dublin 
to  Glasnevin,  and  those  who  saw  the  gathering  that  followed 
his  coffin  to  the  grave,  the  thousands  of  stalwart  men  that 
marched  in  solemn  order  behind  his  bier,  will  never  forget  the 
sight.  A  silent  slab,  unlettered  and  unmarked,  shows  the  spot 
where  his  remains  were  interred ;  no  storied  urn  or  animated 
bust,  no  marble  column  or  commemorative  tablet  has  been 
consecrated  to  his  memory,  but  the  history  of  his  life  is  graven 
in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,  and  he  enjoys  in  their  affec- 
tionate remembrance,  a  monument  more  enduring  than  human 
hands  could  build  him. 


THOMAS  CLARKE  LUBY. 

'OOKING  along  the  course  01  Irish  history,  it  is  easy 
to  point  out  certain  periods  in  which  England  could 
have  found  an  opportunity  for  making  terms  with  the 
Irish  nation,  healing  some  of  the  old  wounds,  and 
mitigating  in  some  degree  the  burning  sense  of  wrong 
and  the  desire  of  vengeance  that  rankled  in  the  hearts 
of  the  Irish  race.  There  were  lulls  in  the  struggle,  intervals 
of  gloomy  calm,  occasions  when  the  heart  of  Ireland  might 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  1 47 

have  been  touched  by  generous  deeds,  and  when  the  offer  of 
the  olive  branch,  or  even  a  few  of  its  leaves,  would  have  had  a 
blessed  effect.  But  England  never  availed  of  them — never  for 
an  instant  sought  to  turn  them  to  good  account.  She  preferred, 
when  Ireland  was  defeated,  prostrate,  and  forlorn,  to  taunt  her 
with  her  failure,  scoff  at  her  sufferings,  and  add  to  her  afflic- 
tions. Such  was  her  conduct  during  the  mournful  time  that 
followed  on  the  attempted  insurrection  of  1848. 

It  was  an  appaling  time,  in  whose  death-laden  atmosphere 
political  action  was  impossible.  The  famine  had  made  of  the 
country  one  huge  graveyard.  A  silence  fell  upon  the  land, 
lately  so  clamorous  for  her  rights,  so  hopeful,  and  so  defiant. 
The  Repeal  organization  spoke  no  more;  the  tramp  of  the 
Confederate  Clubs  was  no  longer  heard  in  the  streets ;  O'Con- 
nell  was  dead ;  the  Young  Ireland  leaders  were  fugitives  or 
prisoners ;  and  the  people  were  almost  bewildered  by  a  sense 
of  their  great  calamity.  Then,  if  England  had  stooped  to  raise 
her  fallen  foe,  offered  her  some  kindly  treatment,  and  spoken 
some  gracious  words,  the  bitterness  of  the  old  quarrel  might 
have  been  in  some  degree  assuaged,  even  though  its  cause 
should  not  entirely  be  obliterated.  But  England  did  not 
choose  to  take  that  politic  and  Christain  course.  She  found  it 
much  pleasanter  to  chuckle  over  the  discomfiture  of  the  Irish 
patriots,  to  ridicule  the  failure  of  their  peaceable  agitation,  to 
sneer  at  their  poor  efforts  in  arms,  to  nickname,  and  misrepre- 
sent, and  libel  the  brave-hearted  gentlemen  who  led  that  un, 
lucky  endeavor ;  and  above  all  to  felicitate  herself  on  the  re^ 
duction  that  had  taken  place  in  the  Irish  population.  That — • 
from  her  point  of  view — was  the  glorious  part  of  the  whole  affair. 
The  Irish  were  '*  gone  with  a  vengeance ! " — not  all  of  them, 
but  a  goodly  proportion,  and  others  were  going  off  every  day. 
Emigrant  ships  clustered  in  the  chief  ports,  and  many  sought 
their  living  freights  in  those  capacious  harbors  along  the  Atlan- 
tic coast  which  nature  seemed  to  have  shaped  for  the  accom- 
modation of  a  great  commerce,  but  where  the  visit  of  any  craft 
larger  than   a   fishing-smack  was  a  rare  event.      The  flaming 


148  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

placards  of  the  various  shipping-lines  were  posted  in  evenf 
town  in  Ireland — on  the  chapel  gates,  and  the  shutters  of 
closed  shops,  and  the  doors  of  tenantless  houses;  and  there 
appeared  to  be  in  progress  a  regular  breaking  up  of  the  Irish 
nation.  This,  to  the  English  mind,  was  positively  delightful. 
For  here  was  the  Irish  question  being  settled  at  last,  by  the 
simple  process  of  the  transference  of  the  Irish  people  to  the 
bottom  of  the  deep  sea,  or  else  to  the  Continent  of  America — 
nearly  the  same  thing  as  far  as  England  was  concerned,  for  in 
neither  place — as  it  seemed  to  her — could  they  ever  more 
trouble  her  peace,  or  have  any  claim  on  those  fruits  of  the 
Irish  soil  which  were  needed  for  the  stomachs  of  Englishmen. 
There  they  could  no  longer  pester  her  with  petitions  for  Ten- 
ant Right,  or  demands  for  a  Repeal  of  the  Union.  English 
farmers,  and  drovers,  and  laborers,  loyal  to  the  English  govern- 
ment, and  yielding  no  sort  of  allegiance  to  the  Pope,  would 
cross  the  Channel  and  take  possession  of  the  deserted  island, 
which  would  thenceforth  be  England's  in  such  a  sense  as  it 
never  was  before.  O  magnificent  consummation!  O  most 
brilliant  prospect,  in  the  eyes  of  English  statesmen!  They 
saw  their  way  clear,  they  understood  their  game ;  it  was  to 
lighten  in  no  degree  the  pressure  which  they  maintained  upon 
the  lives  of  the  Irish  people,  to  do  nothing  that  could 
tend  to  render  existence  tolerable  to  them  in  Ireland,  or  check 
the  rush  of  emigration.  Acting  in  conformity  with  this  shallow 
and  false  estimate  of  the  situation,  they  allowed  to  drift  away, 
unused,  the  time  which  wise  statesmen  would  have  employed 
in  the  effectuation  of  conciliatory  and  tranquilizing  measures, 
and  applied  themselves  sim.ply  to  the  crushing  out  from  the 
Irish  mind  of  every  hope  of  improved  legislation,  and  the  defeat 
of  every  effort  to  obtain  it.  Thus  when  the  people — waking  up 
from  the  stupefaction  that  followed  on  the  most  tragic  period 
of  the  famine — began  to  breathe  the  breath  of  political  life 
again,  and,  perceiving  the  danger  that  menaced  the  existence 
of  the  peasant  classes,  set  on  foot  an  agitation  to  procure  a  re- 
form of  the  land-laws,  the  government  resolutely  opposed  tht 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  I4g 

project ;  defeated  the  bills  which  the  friends  of  the  tenantry 
brought  into  Parliament ;  and  took  steps,  which  proved  only 
too  successful,  for  the  break  up  of  the  organization  by  which 
the  movement  was  conducted.  And  then,  when  Frederick 
Lucas  was  dead,  and  Mr.  Duffy  had  gone  into  exile,  and  the 
patriot  priests  were  debarred  from  taking  part  in  politics,  and 
Messrs.  John  Sadlier  and  William  Keogh  were  bought  over  by 
bribes  of  place  and  pay,  the  government  appeared  to  think 
that  Irish  patriotism  had  fought  in  its  last  ditch,  and  received 
its  final  defeat. 

But  they  were  mistaken.  The  old  cause  that  had  survived 
so  many  disasters  was  not  dead  yet.  While  the  efforts  of  the 
Tenant  Righters  in  Ireland  were  being  foiled,  and  their  party 
was  being  scattered,  a  couple  of  Irishmen,  temporarily  resident 
in  Paris,  fugitive  because  of  their  connection  with  the  events 
of  '48,  were  laying  the  foundations  of  a  movement  more  pro- 
foundly dangerous  to  England,  than  any  of  those  with  which 
she  had  grappled  since  the  days  of  Wolfe  Tone  and  Lord  Ed- 
ward Fitzgerald.  Those  men  were  John  O'Mahony  and  James 
Stephens. 

Since  then  their  names  have  been  much  heard  of,  and  the 
organization  of  which  they  were  the  originators  has  played  an 
important  part  in  Irish  history.  But  at  the  period  of  which  we 
are  now  writing,  the  general  public  knew  nothing  of  O'Mahony 
or  of  Stephens  beyond  the  fact  that  they  were  alleged  to  have 
taken  some  part  in  the  recent  insurrectionary  demonstrations. 
Stephens,  who  was  then  a  very  young  lad,  had  been  present  at 
the  Ballingarry  attack,  and  had  been  severely  wounded  by  the 
fire  of  the  police.  He  managed  to  crawl  away  from  the  spot 
to  a  ditch-side,  where  he  was  lost  sight  of.  A  report  of  his 
death  was  put  into  circulation,  and  a  loyal  journal  published  in 
Kilkenny — the  native  town  of  the  young  rebel,  who  in  this 
instance  played  his  first  trick  on  the  government — referred  to 
his  supposed  decease  in  terms  which  showed  that  the  rule  de 
mortuis  nil  nisi  boniim  found  acceptance  with  the  editor.  The 
following  are  the  words  of  the  obituary  notice  which  appeared 


ICQ  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

in  the  Kilkenny  Moderator,  on  or  about  the  19th  of   August, 
1848:— 

**  Poor  James  Stephens,  who  followed  Smith  O'Brien  to  the  field, 
has  died  of  the  wound  which  he  received  at  Ballingarry  whilst  acting 
as  aide-de-camp  to  the  insurgent  leader.  Mr.  Stephens  was  a  very 
amiable,  and  apart  from  politics,  most  inoffensive  young  man,  pos- 
sessed of  a  grea't  deal  of  talent,  and  we  believe  he  was  a  most  excellent 
son  and  brother.  His  untimely  and  melancholy  fate  will  be  much  re- 
gretted by  a  numerous  circle  of  friends." 

It  is.  said  that  his  fannily  very  prudently  fostered  this  delu- 
sion by  going  into  mourning  for  the  loss  of  young  James — the 
suggestion  of  which  clever  ruse  probably  came  from  the  dear 
boy  himself.  A  short  time  afterwards  he  managed  to  escape, 
disguised  as  a  lady's-maid,  to  France.  As  one  may  gather 
from  the  paragraph  above  quoted,  the  family  were  much  re- 
spected in  the  locality.  Mr.  Stephens,  father  of  the  future  C. 
O.I.R.,  was  clerk  in  the  establishment  of  a  respectable  auction- 
eer and  book-seller  in  Kilkenny.  He  gave  his  children  a  good 
education,  and  sent  young  James  to  a  Catholic  seminary  with 
a  view  to  his  being  taught  and  trained  for  the  priesthood.  But 
circumstances  prevented  the  realization  of  this  design,  and  be- 
fore any  line  of  business  could  be  marked  out  for  young 
Stephens,  the  political  events  above  referred  to  took  place  and 
shaped  his  future  career. 

John  O'Mahony  was  a  different  stamp  of  man.  He  belonged 
to  the  class  known  as  gentlemen-farmers,  and  of  that  class  he 
was  one  of  the  most  respected.  His  family  owned  a  considerable 
tract  of  land  in  the  southern  part  of  the  county  of  Tipperary, 
of  which  they  had  been  occupants  for  many  generations.  He 
was  well  educated,  of  studious  habits,  and  thoroughly  imbued 
with  patriotic  feeling,  which  came  to  him  as  a  hereditary  pos- 
session. When  the  Young  Ireland  leaders  were  electrifying  the 
country  by  their  spiritual  appeals  to  the  patriotism  and  bravery 
of  the  Irish  race,  and  the  population  in  all  the  chief  centres  of 
intelligence  were  crystalizing  into  semi-military  organizations, 
O'Mahony  was  not  apathetic  or  inactive.     One  of  the  strongest 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


151 


of  the  Confederate  clubs — which  were  thick  sown  in  the  con. 
tiguous  districts  of  the  counties  of  Cork,  Waterford,  and 
Tipperary — was  under  his  presidency  ;  and  when  in  July,  1848, 
the  leaders  of  the  movement  scattered  themselves  over  the 
country  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  degree  of  support 
they  would  receive  if  they  should  decide  on  unfurling  the  green 
banner,  his  report  of  the  state  of  affairs  in  his  district  was  one 
of  their  most  cheering  encouragements. 

A  few  days  afterwards  the  outbreak  under  O'Brien  occurred 
at  Ballingarry.  The  failure  of  that  attempt,  and  the  irresolute 
manner  in  which  it  was  conducted,  had  disheartened  the  coun- 
try, but  the  idea  of  allowing  the  struggle  to  rest  at  that  point 
was  not  universally  entertained  by  the  leaders  of  the  clubs, 
and  John  O'Mahony  was  one  of  those  who  resolved  that 
another  attempt  should  be  made  to  rally  the  people  to  the  in- 
surrectionary standard.  He  acted  up  to  his  resolution.  On  the 
night  of  the  12th  of  September  there  were  signal-fires  on  the 
slopes  of  Slievenamon  and  the  Comeragh  mountains,  and  the 
district  between  Carrick-on-Suir  and  Callan  was  in  a  state  of 
perturbation.  Next  day  the  alarm  was  spread  in  all  directions. 
The  gentry  of  the  disturbed  districts  rushed  into  the  nearest 
towns  for  protection  ;  police  from  the  outlying  barracks  were 
called  in  to  re-in  force  the  threatened  stations,  and  troops  were 
hastily  summoned  from  Dublin  and  the  neighboring  garrisons. 
Meanwhile,  parties  of  the  insurgents  began  to  move  about.  One 
proceeded  to  the  police  station  at  the  Slate-quarries,  and  find- 
ing it  deserted — the  policemen  having  retired  on  Piltown — 
burned  it  to  the  ground.  Another  attempted  the  destruction 
of  Grany-bridge,  to  delay  the  advance  of  the  soldiery.  A  third 
proceeded  to  attack  the  Glenbower  station.  The  defenders  of 
the  barracks  were  in  a  rather  critical  position  when  another 
party  of  police,  on  their  way  from  the  Nine-Mile-House  station 
to  Carrick,  came  upon  the  spot,  and  the  combined  force 
speedily  put  their  half-armed  assailants  to  flight,  with  a  loss  to 
the  latter  of  one  man  severely  wounded,  and  one  killed.  An 
attack  was  made  on  the  barrack  at  Portlaw,  but  with  a  like  re- 


1^2  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK, 

suit ;  two  men  were  stricken  dead  by  the  bullets  of  the  police. 
The  people  soon  afterwards  scattered  to  their  homes,  and  the 
soldiery  and  police  had  nothing  to  do  but  hunt  up  for  the  lead- 
ers and  other  parties  implicated  in  the  movement.  John  O'Ma- 
hony  narrowly  escaped  capture  on  three  or  four  occasions.  He 
lingered  in  the  country,  however,  until  after  the  conviction  of 
the  state  prisoners  at  Clonmel,  when  it  became  clear  to  him  that 
the  cause  was  lost  for  a  time  ;  and  he  then  took  his  way  to 
Paris,  whither  several  of  his  fellow-outlaws,  for  whose  arrest 
the  government  had  offered  large  rewards,  had  gone  before 
him. 

In  that  famous  centre  of  intellect  and  of  intrigue,  the  focus 
of  political  thought,  the  fountain  head  of  great  ideas,  John 
O'Mahony  and  James  Stephens  pondered  long  over  the  defeat 
that  had  come  upon  the  Irish  cause,  and  in  their  ponderings 
bethought  them  that  the  reason  of  the  failure  which  they  de- 
plored was  to  be  found  in  the  want  of  that  quiet,  earnest, 
secret  preparation,  by  means  of  which  the  Continental  revolu* 
tionists  were  able  to  produce  from  time  to  time  such  volcanic 
effects  in  European  politics,  and  cause  the  most  firmly-rooted 
dynasties  to  tremble  for  their  positions.  The  system  of  secret 
conspiracy — the  ancient  system,  ''  old  as  the  universe,  yet  not 
outworn" — a  system  not  unknown  in  Ireland  from  the  days  of 
the  Attacots  to  those  of  the  Whiteboys — the  system  of  Sir 
Phelim  O'Neill,  and  of  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone — that  system,  as 
developed,  refined,  and  elaborated  by  the  most  subtle  intellects 
of  modern  times,  those  two  men  proposed  to  propagate  among 
the  Irish  race  at  home  and  abroad.  They  divided  the  labors 
between  them,  O'Mahony  took  the  United  States  of  America 
for  his  field  of  action,  and  Stephens  took  the  old  country. 

It  was  in  the  year  1858  that  the  first  symptoms  indicative  of 
the  work  to  which  James  Stephens  had  set  himself  made  their 
appearance  in  the  extreme  southwest  of  Ireland.  Whispers 
went  about  that  some  of  the  young  men  of  Kenmare,  Bantry, 
and  Skibbereen  were  enrolled  in  a  secret  sworn  organization, 
and  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting  for  the  purpose  of  training 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


153 


and  drilling.  Indeed,  the  members  of  the  new  Society  took 
little  pains  to  conceal  its  existence  ;  they  seemed  rather  to 
find  a  pride  in  the  knowledge  which  their  neighbors  had  of  the 
fact,  and  relied  for  their  legal  safety  on  certain  precautions 
adopted  in  the  manner  of  their  initiation  as  members.  When 
informed  firstly  by  well-known  nationalists  in  a  private  manner, 
and  subsequently  by  public  remonstrances  addressed  to  them 
by  Catholic  clergymen  and  the  national  journals,  that  the  gov- 
erment  was  on  their  track,  they  refused  to  believe  it ;  but  ere 
long  they  suffered  grievously  for  their  incredulity  and  want  of 
prudence.  In  the  early  days  of  December,  1858,  the  swoop  of 
the  government  was  made  on  the  members  of  the  "  Phoenix 
Society"  in  Cork  and  Kerry,  and  arrests  followed  shortly  after  in 
other  parts  of  the  country.  The  trials  in  the  south  commenced 
at  Tralee  in  March,  1859,  when  a  conviction  was  obtained 
against  a  man  named  Daniel  O'SuUivan,  and  he  was  sentenced 
to  penal  servitude  for  ten  years.  The  remaining  cases  were  ad- 
journed to  the  next  assizes,and  when  they  came  on  in  July,  1859, 
the  prisoners  put  in  a  plea  of  guilty,  and  were  set  at  liberty  on  the 
understanding  that  if  their  future  conduct  should  not  be  satis- 
factory to  the  authorities,  they  would  be  called  up  for  sentence. 
Amongst  the  Cork  prisoners  who  took  this  course  was  Jere- 
miah O'Donovan  (Rossa),  whose  name  has  since  then  been  made 
familiar  to  the  public. 

Those  events  were  generally  supposed  to  have  extin- 
guished the  Phoenix  conspiracy.  And  many  of  Ireland's 
most  sincere  friends  hoped  that  such  was  the  case.  Rec- 
ognizing fully  the  peculiar  powers  which  a  secret  society  can 
bring  to  bear  against  the  government,  they  still  felt  a  pro- 
found conviction  that  the  risks,  or,  rather,  the  certain  cost 
of  liberty  and  life  involved  in  such  a  mode  of  proce- 
dure, formed  more  than  a  counterpoise  for  the  advantages 
which  it  presented.  They  were  consequently  earnest  and  em- 
phatic in  their  endeavors  to  dissaude  their  countrymen  from 
treading  in  the  dangerous  paths  in  which  their  steps  were  dog- 
ged by  the  spy  and  the  informer.     The  Catholic  clergy  were  es- 


jc^  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

pecially  zealous  In  their  condemnation  of  secret  revolutionary 
societies,  urged  thereto  by  a  sense  of  their  duty  as  priests  and 
patriots.  But  there  were  men  connected  with  the  movement 
both  in  America  and  Ireland,  who  were  resolved  to  persevere 
in  their  designs  of  extending  the  organization  among  the  Irish 
people,  despite  of  any  amount  of  opposition  from  any  quarter 
whatsoever.  In  pursuit  of  that  object  they  were  not  over- 
scrupulous as  to  the  means  they  employed  ;  they  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  violate  many  an  honorable  principle,  and  to  wrong 
many  an  honest  man;  nor  did  they  exhibit  a  fair  share  of  com- 
mon prudence  in  dealing  with  the  difficulties  of  their  position  ; 
but  unexpected  circumstances  arose  to  favor  their  propagand- 
ism,  and  it  went  ahead  despite  of  all  their  mistakes,  and  of 
every  obstacle.  One  of  these  circumstances  was  the  outbreak 
of  the  civil  war  in  America,  which  took  place  in  April,  1861. 
That  event  seemed  to  the  leaders  of  the  Irish  revolutionary 
organization,  now  known  as  the  Fenian  Brotherhood,  to  be  one 
of  the  most  fortunate  for  their  purposes  that  could  have  hap- 
pened. It  inspired  the  whole  population  of  America  with  mili- 
tary ardor,  it  opened  up  a  splendid  school  in  which  the  Irish 
section  of  the  people  could  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  art  of 
war,  which  was  exactly  what  was  needed  to  give  real  efficacy  to 
their  endeavors  for  the  overthrow  of  British  dominion  in  Ire- 
land. Besides,  there  appeared  to  be  a  strong  probability  that 
the  line  of  action  in  favor  of  the  Southern  States  which  Eng- 
land—notwithstanding her  proclamation  of  neutrality,  had 
adopted  from  an  early  stage  of  the  conflict — would  speedily  in^ 
volve  her  in  a  war  with  the  Federal  government.  These  things 
constituted  a  prospect  dazzling  to  the  eyes  of  the  Irishmen  who 
had ''gone  with  a  vengeance."  Their  hearts  bounded  with 
joy  at  the  opportunities  that  appeared  to  be  opening  on  them. 
At  last  the  time  was  near,  they  believed,  when  the  accumu- 
lated hate  of  seven  centuries  would  burst  upon  the  power  of 
England,  not  in  the  shape  of  an  undisciplined  peasantry  armed 
with  pikes,  and  scythes,  and  pitchforks,  as  in  1798 — not  in  the 
thape   of   a   half  famished  and  empty-handed  crowd,  led  to 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


155 


battle  by  orators  and  poets,  as  in  1848,  but  In  the  shape  of  an 
army,  bristling  with   sharp  steel,  and  flanked  with  thunderous 
cannon — an  army  skilled  in  the  modern  science  of  war,  directed 
by  true  military  genius,  and  inspired  by   that   burning  valor 
which  in  all  times  was  one  of  the  qualities    of   the   Irish  race. 
Influenced    by    such    hopes    and    feelings,    the    Irish   of    the 
Northern  States  poured  by  thousands   into  the  Federal  ranks, 
and  formed  themselves  into  regiments  that  were  at  the  same 
time  so   many  Fenian   circles.     In   the   Southern    army,  too, 
there  were  many  Irishmen   who  were   not  less   determined  to 
give  to  their  native  land  the  benefit  of  their  military  experience 
as  soon  as  the  troubles    of   their    adopted  country  should  be 
brought  to  an  end.     Fenianism,  with  that  glow  of  light  upon 
it,  spread  like  a  prairie-fire  through   the  States.     The  ranks  of 
the    organization    swelled    rapidly,  and    money   contributions 
poured  like  a  tide  into  its  treasury.     The  impulse  was  felt  also 
by  the  Society  in    Ireland.     It    received  a  rapid  development, 
and  soon  began  to  put  on  a  bold  front  towards  the  government, 
and  a  still  more   belligerent    one  towards    all    Irishmen  who, 
while  claiming  the  character  of  patriots,  declined  to  take  part 
in  the  Fenian  movement,  or  recommend  it  to  their  countrymen. 
In  November,  1863,  the  Brotherhood    started  the  Irish  People 
newspaper  in   Dublin,  for  the  double  purpose  of  propagating 
their   doctrines    and    increasing  the   revenues   of   the  Society. 
James  Stephens  was  the  author  of    this  most   unfortunate  pro- 
ject.    The   men  whom  he   selected   for    working  it    out  were 
Thomas    Clarke    Luby,    John    O'Leary,    and    Charles   Joseph 
Kickham. 

From  the  date  of  its  establishment  up  to  the  month  of  Sep- 
tember, 1865 — a  period  of  nearly  two  years — the  Irish  People 
occupied  itself  in  preaching  what  its  editors  regarded  as  the 
cardinal  doctrines  of  the  Society,  which  were  :— That  constitu- 
tional agitation  for  the  redress  of  Ireland's  grievances  was 
worse  than  useless  ;  that  every  man  taking  part  in  such  agita- 
tion Vv'as  either  a  fool  or  a  knave;  that  in  political  afl"airs  clergy- 
inen  should  be  held  of  no  more  account  than  laymen  ;  and  that 


156 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


the  only  hope  for  Ireland  lay  in  an  armed  uprising  of  the  pe<X 
pie.     These  doctrines  were  not  quite  new ;  not  one  of  them  was 
absolutely   true;    but   they  were  undoubtedly   held  by  many 
thousands  of  Irishmen,  and  the   Fenian  Society  took  care  to 
secure  for  the  journal   in  which   they  were  advocated,  a  large 
circulation.     The  office  of  the  Irish  People  soon  came  to  be  re- 
garded as,  what  it  really  was,  the  headquarters  of  the  Fenian 
organization  in  Ireland.     To  it  the  choice  spirits  of  the  party 
resorted  for  counsel  and  direction ;  thither  the  provincial  organ- 
izers directed  their  steps  whenever  they  visited  Dublin  ;  into  it 
poured  weekly  from  all  parts  of  the  country  an  immense  mass  of 
correspondence,  which  the  editors,  instead  of  destroying  after  it 
had  passed  through  their  hands,  foolishly  allowed  to  accumulate 
upon  their  shelves,  though  every  word  of  it  was  fraught  with 
peril  to  the  lives  and  liberties  of  their  friends.     In  their  private 
residences  also  they  were  incautious  enough  to  keep  numerous 
documents  of  a  most  compromising  character.     There  is  but 
one  way  of  accounting  for  their  conduct  in  this  matter.     They 
may  have  supposed  that  the  legal  proceedings  against  them, 
which  they  knew  were  certain  to  take  place  at  one  time  or 
another,  would  be  conducted  in  the  semi-constitutional  fashion 
which  was  adopted  towards  the  national  journals  in  1848.     If 
the  staff  of  the  Irish  People  had  received  a  single  day's  notice 
that  they  were  about  to  be  made  amenable  to  the  law,  it  is 
possible  that  they  would  have  their  houses  and  their  office  im- 
mediately cleared  of   those  documents  which  afterwards  con- 
signed so  many  of  their  countrymen  to  the   horrors  of  penal 
servitude.     But  they  saw  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  swoop 
was  about  to  be  made  on  them.     On  the    15th  day  of    Sep- 
tember, 1865,  there  were  no  perceptible  indications  that  the  au- 
thorities were  any  more  on   the   alert   in   reference  to   Fenian 
affairs  than  they  had  been  during  the  past  twelve  months.     It 
was  Friday ;    the  Irish  People  had  been  printed  for  the  next 
day's  sale,  large  batches  of  the  paper  had  been  sent  off  to  the 
agents  in  town  and  country,  the  editors  and  publishing  clerks 
had  gone  home  to  rest  after  their  week's  labors — when  sud- 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  1 57 

denly,  at  about  half-past  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  »  sarong 
force  of  police  broke  into  the  office,  seized  the  books,  manu- 
scripts, papers,  and   forms  of  type,  and  bore  them  off  to  the 
Castle  yard.     At  the  same  time  arrests  of  the   chief   Fenian 
leaders  were  being  made  in  various  parts  of   the  city.     The 
news  created  intense  excitement  in  all  circles  of  society,  and 
more    especially  amongst   the  Fenians   themselves,  who   had 
never  dreamed  of  a  government  coup  so  sudden,  so  lawless,  and 
so  effective.     The  government  had  now  thrown  off  the  mask 
of  apathy  and  impassiveness  which  it  had  worn  so  long,  and  it 
commenced  to  lay  its  strong  hand  upon  its  foes.     Amongst  the 
men  who  filled  the  prison  cells  on  that  miserable  autumn  even- 
ing were  John  O'Leary,  Thomas  Clarke   Luby,  and  Jeremiah 
O'Donovan  (Rossa).     Before  the  crown  was  ready  to  proceed 
with  their  trial,  the  third  editor  of  the  paper,  Charles  J.  Kick- 
ham,  was  added  to  their  company,  having  been  arrested  with 
James  Stephens,  Edward  Duffy,  and  Hugh  Brophy,  on  the  nth 
November,  at  Fairfield  House,  near  Dublin. 

On  Monday,  November  27th,  1865,  the  state  trials  commenced 
before  a  special  commission  in  the  Court-house,  Green  Street — 
the  scene  of  so  many  a  previous  grapple  between  British  law  and 
the  spirit  of  Irish  patriotism.  Mr.  Justice  Keogh  ,and  Mr. 
Justice  Fitzgerald  were  the  presiding  judges.  There  was  a  long 
list  of  prisoners  to  be  tried.  James  Stephens  might  have  been 
honored  with  the  first  place  amongst  them,  were  it  not  that  two 
days  previously,  to  the  unspeakable  horror  and  surprise  of  the 
government  and  all  its  friends,  he  had  effected  his  escape,  or 
rather,  we  might  say,  obtained,  by  the  aid  of  friendly  hands, 
his  release  from  Richmond  prison.  In  his  regretted  absence, 
the  crown  commenced  their  proceedings  by  placing  Thomas 
Clarke  Luby  in  the  dock  to  answer  to  a  charge  of  treason- 
felony. 

He  stood  up  to  the  bar,  between  the  jailors  that  clustered 
about  him,  a  quiet-faced,  pale,  and  somewhat  sad-looking  man, 
apparently  of  about  forty  years  of  age.  A  glance  around  the 
court-house  showed  him  but  few  friendly  faces — for,  owing  to 


T58 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCfT. 


the  terrors  felt  by  the  judges,  the  crown  prosecutors,  and  othef 
officials  of  the  law,  who  dreaded  the  desperate  resolves  of  armed 
conspirators,  few  were  admitted  into  the  building,  except  police- 
men, detectives^  and  servants  of  the  crown  in  one  capacity  or 
another.  In  one  of  the  galleries,  however,  he  recognized  his 
wife — daughter  of  J.  De  Jean  Fraser,  one  of  the  sweetest  poets 
of  the  '48  period — with  the  wife  of  his  fellow-prisoner,  O'Don- 
ovan  Rossa,  and  the  sister  of  John  O'Leary.  A  brief  smile  of 
greeting  passed  between  the  party,  and  then  all  thoughts  were 
concentrated  on  the  stern  business  of  the  day. 

There  was  no  chance  of  escape  for  Thomas  Clarke  Luby,  or 
for  his  associates.  The  crown  had  a  plethora  of  evidence 
against  them,  acquired  during  the  months  and  years  when  they 
appeared  to  be  all  but  totally  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  the 
conspiracy.  They  had  the  evidence  of  the  approver,  Nagle, 
who  had  been  an  employe  of  the  Irish  People  office,  and  a  con- 
fidential agent  of  James  Stephens  up  to  the  night  of  the  arrests, 
but  who  during  the  previous  eighteen  months  had  been  be- 
traying  every  secret  of  theirs  to  the  government.  They  had 
the  evidence  of  a  whole  army  of  detectives  ;  but  more  crush- 
ing and  fatal  than  all,  they  had  that  which  was  supplied  by  the 
immense  store  of  documents  captured  at  the  Irish  People  office, 
and  the  houses  of  some  of  the  chief  members  of  the  conspiracy. 
Of  all  those  papers  the  most  important  was  one  found  at  the 
residence  of  Mr.  Luby,  in  which  James  Stephens,  being  at  the 
time  about  to  visit  America,  delegated  his  powers  over  the  or- 
ganization in  Ireland,  England,  and  Scotland  to  Thomas  Clarke 
Luby,  John  O'Leary,  and  Charles  J.  Kickham.  This,  which 
was  referred  to  during  the  trials  as  the  "■  executive  document/' 
was  worded  as  follows  : — 

"  I  hereby  empower  Thomas  Clarke  Luby,  John  O'Leary  and  Char- 
les J.  Kickham  a  committee  of  organization,  or  executive,  with  the 
same  supreme  control  over  the  home  organization  in  England,  Ireland, 
and  Scotland,  as  that  exercised  by  myself.  I  further  empower  them 
to  appoint  a  committee  of  military  inspection,  and  a  committee  of  ap» 
peal  and  judgment,  the  functions  of  which  committee  will  be  made 
known  to  every  member  of  them.     Trusting  to  the  patriotism  and  ab* 


SPEECHES  FROM   TBE  DOCIC. 


159 


fifties  of  the  executive,  I  fully  endorse  their  actions  beforehand.  I 
call  on  every, man  in  our  ranks  to  support  and  be  guided  by  them  in 
all  that  concerns  the  military  brotherhood.  ^  t   CT^r-T^TrtrivTe  '» 

J»  oTEPHENS. 

Not  all  the  legal  ingenuity  and  forensic  eloquence  of  their 
talented  counsel,  Mr.  Butt,  could  avail  to  save  the  men  v^ho, 
by  the  preservation  of  such  documents  as  the  foregoing,  had 
fastened  the  fetters  on  their  own  limbs.  The  trial  of  Mr.  Luby 
concluded  on  the  fourth  day  of  the  proceedings — Friday,  De- 
cember 1st,  1865 — with  a  verdict  of  guilty.  The  prisoner  heard 
the  announcement  with  composure,  and  then,  in  response  to 
the  question  usual  in  such  cases,  addressed  the  court  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  Well,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  I  don't  think  any  person  present 
here  is  surprised  at  the  verdict  found  against  me.  I  have  been  pre- 
pared for  this  verdict  ever  since  I  was  arrested,  although  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  fight  the  British  government  inch  by  inch.  I  felt  I  was 
sure  to  be  found  guilty,  since  the  advisers  of  the  crown  took  what  the 
Attorney-General  was  pleased  the  other  day  to  call  the  '  merciful  course.* 
I  thought  I  might  have  a  fair  chance  of  escaping,  so  long  as  the  capi- 
tal charge  was  impending  over  me  ;  but  when  they  resolved  on  trying 
me  under  the  treason-felony  act,  I  felt  that  I  had  not  the  smallest 
chance.  I  am  somewhat  embarrassed  at  the  present  moment  as  to 
what  I  should  say  under  the  circumstances.  There  are  a  great  many 
things  that  I  would  wish  to  say  ;  but  knowing  that  there  are  other  per- 
sons in  the  same  situation  with  myself,  and  that  I  might  allow  myself 
to  say  something  injudicious,  which  would  peril  their  cases,  I  feel  that 
my  tongue  is  to  a  great  degree  tied.  Nothwithstanding,  there  are  two 
or  three  points  upon  which  I  would  say  a  few  words.  I  have  nothing 
to  say  to  Judge  Keogh's  charge  to  the  jury.  He  did  not  take  up  any 
of  the  topics  that  had  been  introduced  to  prejudice  the  case  against 
me  ;  for  instance,  he  did  not  take  this  accusation  of  an  intention  to 
assassinate,  attributed  to  my  fellow-prisoners  and  myself.  The  Solic- 
itor-General in  his  reply  to  Mr.  Butt,  referred  to  those  topics.  Mr. 
Barry  was  the  first  person  who  advanced  those  charges.  I  thought 
they  were  partially  given  up  by  the  Attorney-General  in  his  opening 
statement,  at  least  they  were  put  forward  to  you  in  a  very  modified 
form  ;  but  the  learned  Solicitor- General,  in  his  very  virulent  speech, 
put  forward  those  charges  in  a  most  aggravated  manner.  He  sought 
even  to  exaggerate  upon  Mr.  Barry's  original  statement. 

"Now,  with  respect  to  those  charges — in  justice  to  my  character — I 
must  say  that  in  this  court,  there  is  not  a  man  more  incapable  of  any- 
thing like  massacre  or  assassination  than  I  am.     I  really  believe  th(3it 


i5q  speeches  from  the  nocjc, 

the  gentlemen  who  have  shown  so  much  ability  in  persecuting  me,  i^ 
the  bottom  of  their  hearts  believe  me  incapable  of  an  act  of  assassina- 
tion or  massacre.  I  don't  see  that  there  is  the  smallest  amount  of  evi- 
dence to  show  that  I  ever  entertained  the  notion  of  a  massacre  of  land- 
lords and  priests.  I  forget  whether  the  advisers  of  the  crown  said  I 
intended  the  massacre  of  the  Protestant  clergymen.  Some  of  the 
writers  of  our  enlightened  press  said  that  I  did.  Now,  with  respect 
to  the  charge  of  assassinating  the  landlords,  the  only  thing  that  gives 
even  the  shadow  of  a  color  to  that  charge  is  the  letter  signed — alleged 
to  be  signed — by  Mr.  OKeefe.  Now,  assuming — but  by  no  means  ad- 
mitting, of  course — that  the  letter  was  written  by  Mr.  O'Keefe,  let  me 
make  a  statement  about  it.  I  know  the  facts  that  I  am  about  to  state 
are  of  no  practical  utility  to  me  now,  at  least  with  respect  to  the 
judges.  I  know  it  is  of  no  practical  utility  to  me,  because  I  cannot  give 
evidence  on  my  own  behalf,  but  it  may  be  of  practical  utility  to  others 
with  whom  I  wish  to  stand  well.  I  believe  my  words  will  carry  convic- 
tion— and  carry  much  more  conviction  than  any  words  of  the  legal  ad- 
visers of  the  crown  can — to  more  than  300,000  of  the  Irish  race  in 
Ireland,  England,  and  America.  Well,  I  deny  absolutely,  that  I  ever 
entertained  any  idea  of  assassinating  the  landlords,  and  the  letter  of 
Mr.  O'Keefe — assuming  it  to  be  his  letter — is  the  only  evidence  on  the 
subject.  My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  O'Keefe  waa  of  the  slightest  na- 
ture. I  did  not  even  know  of  his  existence  when  the  Irish  People  was 
started.  He  came,  after  that  paper  was  established  a  few  months,  to 
the  office,  and  offered  some  articles — some  were  rejected,  some  were 
inserted,  and  I  call  the  attention  of  the  legal  advisers  of  the  crown 
to  this  fact,  that  amongst  the  papers  which  they  got,  those  that  were 
Mr.  O'Keefe's  articles  had  many  paragraphs  scored  out ;  in  fact  we 
put  in  no  article  of  his  without  a  great  deal  of  what  is  technically 
called  'cutting  down.'  Now,  that  letter  of  his  to  me  was  simply  a 
private  document.  It  contained  the  mere  private  views  of  the  writer  ; 
and  I  pledge  this  to  the  court  as  a  man  of  honor — and  I  beUeve  in 
spite  of  the  position  in  which  I  stand,  amongst  my  countrymen  I  am 
believed  to  be  a  man  of  honor,  and  that  if  my  life  depended  on  it,  I 
would  not  speak  falsely  about  the  thing — when  I  read  that  letter,  and 
the  first  to  whom  I  gave  it  was  my  wife,  I  remember  we  read  it  with 
fits  of  laughter  at  its  ridiculous  ideas.  My  wife  at  the  moment  said 
— '  Had  I  not  better  burn  the  letter?'  'Oh,  no,'  I  said,  looking  upon 
it  as  a  most  ridiculous  thing,  and  never  dreaming  for  a  moment  that 
such  a  document  would  ever  turn  up  against  me,  and  produce  the  un- 
pleasant consequences  it  has  produced — I  mean  the  imputation  of  as- 
sassination and  massacre,  which  has  given  me  a  great  deal  more  trouble 
than  anything  else  in  this  case.  That  disposes — as  far  as  I  can  at 
present  dispose  of  it — of  the  charge  of  wishing  to  assassinate  the  land- 
lords. As  to  the  charge  of  desiring  to  assassinate  the  piiests,  I  deny 
it  as  being  the  most  monstrous  thing  in  the  world.     Why,  surely,  every 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  l6i 

one  who  read  the  articles  in  the  paper  would  see  that  the  plain  doc- 
trine laid  down  there  was — to  reverence  the  priests  so  long  as  they  con- 
fined themselves  to  their  sacerdotal  functions  ;  but  when  the  priest  de- 
scended to  the  arena  of  politics  he  became  no  more  than  any  other 
man,  and  would  just  be  regarded  as  any  other  man.  If  he  was  a  man 
of  ability  and  honesty,  of  course  he  would  get  the  respect  that  such 
men  get  in  politics — if  he  was  not  a  man  of  ability  there  would  be  no 
more  thought  of  him  than  of  a  shoemaker,  or  any  one  else.  This  is 
the  teaching  of  the  Irish  People  with  regard  to  the  priests.  I  believe 
the  Ij'ish  People  has  done  a  great  deal  of  good,  even  amongst  those 
who  do  not  believe  in  its  revolutionary  doctrines.  I  believe  the  revo- 
lutionary doctrines  of  the  Irish  People  are  good.  I  believe  nothing 
can  ever  save  Ireland  except  independence;  and  I  believe  that  all 
other  attempts  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  Ireland  are  mere  tempo- 
rary expedients  and  makeshifts — " 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — "  I  am  very  reluctant  to  interrupt  you,  Mr. 
Luby." 

Mr.  Luby — "  Very  well,  my  lord,  I  will  leave  that.  I  believe  in  this 
ray  the  Irish  People  has  done  an  immensity  of  good.  It  taught  the 
people  not  to  give  up  their  right  of  private  judgment  in  temporal  mat- 
ters to  the  clergy;  that  while  they  reverenced  the  clergy  upon  the  al- 
tar, they  should  not  give  up  their  consciences  in  secular  matters  to  the 
clergy.  I  believe  that  is  good.  Others  may  differ  from  n.c  No  set 
of  men  I  believe  ever  set  themselves  earnestly  to  any  work,  but  they 
did  good  in  some  shape  or  form." 

Judge  Keogh — "  I  am  most  reluctant,  Mr.  Luby,  to  interrupt  you, 
but  do  you  think  you  should  pursue  this .?" 

Mr.  Luby — "  Very  well,  I  will  not.  I  think  that  disposes  of  those 
things.  I  don't  care  to  say  much  about  myself.  It  would  be  rather 
beneath  me.  Perhaps  some  persons  who  know  me  would  say  I  should 
not  have  touched  upon  the  assassination  charge  at  all — that  in  fact  I 
have  rather  shown  weakness  in  attaching  so  much  importance  to  it. 
But,  with  regard  to  the  entire  course  of  my  life,  and  whether  it  be  a 
mistaken  course  or  not  will  be  for  every  man's  individual  judgment  to 
decide — this  I  i enow,  that  no  man  ever  loved  Ireland  more  than  I  have 
done — no  man  has  ever  given  up  his  whole  being  to  Ireland  to  the  ex- 
tent I  have  do  qc.  From  the  time  I  came  to  what  has  been  called  the 
years  of  discre'  ion,  my  entire  thought  has  been  devoted  to  Ireland.  I 
believe  the  co  irse  I  pursued  was  right;  others  may  take  a  different 
view.  I  belie  re  the  majority  of  my  countrymen  this  minute,  if,  in- 
stead of  my  be  ng  tried  before  a  petty  jury,  who,  I  suppose,  are  bound 
to  tind  accordi  ig  to  British  law — if  my  guilt  or  innocence  was  to  be 
tried  by  the  higher  standard  of  eternal  right,  and  the  case  was  put  to 
all  my  countryL\en — I  believe  this  moment  the  majority  of  my  coun- 
trymen would  pronounce  that  I  am  not  a  criminal,  but  that  I  have 
-deserved  well  of  "oy  country.     When  the  proceedings  of  this  trial  go 


1 62  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOClC. 

forth  into  the  world,  people  will  say  the  cause  of  Ireland  is  not  to  b« 
despaired  of,  that  Ireland  is  not  yet  a  lost  country — that  as  long  as 
there  are  men  in  any  country  prepared  to  expose  themselves  to  every 
difficulty  and  danger,  in  its  service,  prepared  to  brave  captivity,  even 
death  itself,  if  need  be,  that  country  cannot  be  lost.  With  these  words 
I  conclude." 

On  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  Judge  Keogh  proceeded 
to  pass  sentence  on  the  prisoner.  The  prisoner's  speech,  he 
said,  w^as  in  every  way  creditable  to  him;  but  the  bench  could 
not  avoid  coming  to  the  conclusion  that,  with  the  exception 
of  James  Stephens,  he  was  the  person  most  deeply  implicated 
in  the  conspiracy.  The  sentence  of  the  court  was  that  he  be 
kept  in  penal  servitude  for  a  term  of  twenty  years.  Mr.  Luby 
heard  the  words  without  any  apparent  emotion — gave  one  sad, 
farewell  glance  to  his  wife  and  friends,  and  stepping  dov.n  the 
little  stairs  from  the  dock,  made  way  for  the  next  prisoner. 


JOHN  O'LEARY. 

'HILE  the  Jury  in  the  case  of  Thomas  Clarke  Luby 
were  absent  from  the  court  deliberating  on  and 
framing  their  verdict,  John  O'Leary  was  put  for- 
ward to  the  bar. 

He  stepped  boldly  to  the  front,  with  a  flash  of 
fire  in  his  dark  eyes,  and  a  scowl  on  his  features, 
looking  hatred  and  defiance  on  judges,  lawyers,  jurymen,  and 
all  the  rest  of  them.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  him,  for  he  was 
one  of  those  persons  whose  exterior  attracts  attention,  and  in- 
dicates a  character  above  the  common.  He  was  tall,  slightly 
built,  and  of  gentlemanly  deportment ;  every  feature  of  his 
thin,  angular  face  gave  token  of  great  intellectual  energy  and 
determination,  and  its  pallid  hue  was  rendered  almost  death* 
like  hy  constrast  with  his  long,  black  hair  and  flowing  mous« 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK 


163 


tache  and  beard.  Easy  it  was  to  see  that  when  the  govern, 
ment  placed  John  O'Leary  in  the  dock  they  had  caged  a  proud 
spirit,  and  an  able  and  resolute  enemy.  He  had  come  of  a 
patriot  stock,  and  from  a  part  of  Ireland  where  rebels  to  Eng- 
lish rule  were  never  either  few  or  faint-hearted.  He  was  born 
in  the  town  of  Tipperary,  of  parents  whose  circumstances 
were  comfortable,  and  who,  at  the  time  of  their  decease,  left 
him  in  possession  of  property  worth  a  couple  of  hundred 
pounds  per  annum.  He  was  educated  for  the  medical  profes- 
sion in  the  Queen's  College,  Cork,  spent  some  time  in  France, 
and  subsequently  visited  America,  where  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  chief  organizers  of  the  Fenian  movement,  by  whom 
he  was  regarded  as  a  most  valuable  acquisition  to  the  ranks  of 
the  Brotherhood.  After  his  return  to  Ireland  he  continued  to 
render  the  Fenian  cause  such  services  as  lay  in  his  power,  and 
when  James  Stephens,  who  knew  his  courage  and  ability,  in- 
vited him  to  take  the  post  of  chief-editor  of  the  Fenian  organ 
which  he  was  about  to  establish  in  Dublin,  O'Leary  readily 
obeyed  the  call,  and  accepted  the  dangerous  position.  In  the 
columns  of  the  Irish  People  he  labored  hard  to  defend  and  ex- 
tend the  principles  of  the  Fenian  organization  until  the  date  of 
his  arrest  and  the  suppression  of  the  paper. 

The  trial  lasted  from  Friday,  the  ist,  up  to  Wednesday,  the 
6th  of  December,  when  it  was  closed,  with  a  verdict  of  guilty, 
and  a  sentence  of  twenty  years'  penal  servitude — Mr.  Justice 
Fitzgerald  remarking  that  no  distinction  in  the  degree  of  crim- 
inality could  be  discovered  between  the  case  of  the  prisoner 
and  that  of  the  previous  convict.  The  following  is  the  address 
delivered  by  O'Leary,  who  appeared  to  labor  under  much 
excitement,  when  asked  in  the  usual  terms  if  he  had  any  reason 
to  show  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  upon  him  : — 

"  I  was  not  wholly  unprepared  for  this  verdict,  because  I  felt  that 
the  government  which  could  so  safely  pack  the  bench  could  not  fail 
to  make  sure  of  its  verdict." 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald — "  We  are  willing  to  hear  anything  in  rea- 
son from  you,  but  we  cannot  allow  language  of  that  kind  to  be  used." 


i64 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK, 


Mr.  O'Leary — ''  My  friend  Mr.  Luby  did  not  wish  to  touch  on  thif 
matter  from  a  natural  fear,  lest  he  should  do  any  harm  to  the  other 
political  prisoners  ;  but  there  can  be  but  little  fear  of  that  now,  for  a 
jury  has  been  found  to  convict  me  of  this  conspiracy  upon  the  evi- 
dence. Mr.  Luby  admitted  that  he  was  technically  guilty  accordmg 
to  British  law  ;  but  I  say  that  it  is  only  by  the  most  torturing  inter- 
pretation that  these  men  could  make  out  their  case  against  me.  With 
reference  to  this  conspiracy  there  has  been  much  misapprehension 
in  Ireland,  and  serious  misapprehension.  Mr.  Justice  Keogh  said  in 
his  charge  against  Mr.  Luby  that  men  would  be  always  found  ready, 
for  money,  or  for  some  other  motive,  to  place  themselves  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  government ;  but  I  think  the  men  who  have  been  gener- 
ally bought  in  this  way,  and  who  certainly  made  the  best  of  the  bar- 
gain, were  agitators,  and  not  rebels.  I  have  to  say  one  word  in 
reference  to  the  foul  charge  upon  which  that  miserable  man,  Barry, 
has  made  me  responsible." 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald — "  We  cannot  allow  that  tone  of  observa- 


tion." 


Mr.  O'Leary  continued — "That  man  has  charged  me — I  need  not 
defend  myself  or  my  friends  from  the  charge.  I  shall  merely  de- 
nounce the  moral  assassin.  Mr.  Justice  Keogh,  the  other  day,  spoke 
of  revolutions,  and  administered  a  lecture  to  Mr.  Luby.  He  spoke  of 
cattle  being  driven  away,  and  of  houses  being  burned  down,  that  men 
would  be  killed,  and  so  on.  I  would  like  to  know  if  all  that  does  not 
apply  to  war,  as  well  as  to  revolution?  One  word  more,  and  I  shall 
have  done.  I  have  been  found  guilty  of  treason,  or  of  treason-felony. 
Treason  is  a  foul  crime.  The  poet  Dante  consigned  traitors  to,  I 
believe,  the  ninth  circle  of  hell  ;  but  what  kind  of  traitors  ?  Traiton 
against  king,  against  country,  against  friends  and  benefactors.  Eng- 
land is  not  my  country  ;  I  have  betrayed  no  friend,  no  benefactor. 
Sidney  and  Emmet  were  legal  traitors,  Jeffreys  was  a  loyal  man,  and 
so  was  Norbury.     I  leave  the  matter  there." 

One  hour  after  the  utterance  of  these  words  John  0'Leary> 
dressed  in  convict  garb,  his  hair  clipped,  and  his  beard  shaved 
off,  was  the  occupant  of  a  cell  in  Mountjoy  prison,  commenc- 
ing his  long  term  of  suffering  m  expiation  of  the  crime  of  hav« 
ing  sought  to  obtain  self-government  for  his  native  land. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


JEREMIAH  O'DONOVAN  (ROSSA). 


i^S 


,N  one  of  the  preceding  pages  we  have  mentioned 
the  fact  that  at  the  Cork  Summer  Assizes  of  1859, 
a  conviction  was  recorded  against  Jeremiah  O'Dono- 
van  (Rossa)  for  his  complicity  in  the  Phoenix  con- 
spiracy, and  he  was  then  released  on  the  understand- 
ing that  if  he  should  be  found  engaging  in  similar 
practices,  the  crown  would  bring  him  up  for  judgment.  It  is 
characteristic  of  the  man,  that  with  this  conviction  hanging  like 
a  mill-stone  about  his  neck,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  take  an  active 
and  an  open  part  with  the  promoters  of  the  Fenian  moverAent. 
He  travelled  through  various  parts  of  Ireland  in  furtherance  of 
the  objects  of  the  Society;  he  visited  America  on  the  same  mis- 
sion, and  when  the  Irish  People  was  started  he  took  the  position 
of  business  manager  in  that  foredoomed  establishment. 

He  was  brought  into  the  dock  immediately  after  John 
O'Leary  had  been  taken  from  it ;  but  on  representing  that 
certain  documents  which  he  had  not  then  at  hand  were  neces^ 
sary  for  his  defence,  he  obtained  a  postponement  of  his  trial  for 
a  few  days.  When  he  was  again  brought  up  for  trial  he  inti- 
mated to  the  court  that  he  meant  to  conduct  his  own  defence. 
And  he  entered  upon  it  immediately.  He  cross-examined  the 
informers  in  fierce  fashion,  he  badgered  the  detectives,  he  ques- 
tioned the  police,  he  debated  with  the  crown  lawyers,  he  argued 
with  the  judges,  he  fought  with  the  crown  side  all  round.  But 
it  was  when  the  last  of  the  witnesses  had  gone  off  the  table 
that  he  set  to  the  work  in  good  earnest.  He  took  up  the  va- 
rious publications  that  had  been  put  in  evidence  against  him, 
and  claimed  his  legal  right  to  read  them  all  through.  One  of 
them  was  the  file  of  the  Irish  People  for  the  whole  term  of  its 
existence!  Horror  sat  upon  the  faces  of  judges,  jurymen, 
sheriffs,  lawyers,  turnkeys,  and  all,  when  the  prisoner  gravely 
informed  them  that  as  a  compromise  he  would  not  insist  upon 
reading  the  advertisements !     The  bench  were  unable  to  deny 


1 66  SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 

that  the  prisoner  was  entitled  to  read,  if  not  the  entire,  at  a: 
rate  a  great  portion  of  the  volume,  and  O'Doiiovan  then  applied 
himself  to  the  task,  selecting  his  reading  more  especially  from 
those  articles  in  which  the  poh'tical  career  of  Mr.  Justice 
Keogh  was  made  the  subject  of  animadversion.  Right  on  he 
read,  his  lordship  striving  to  look  as  composed  and  indifferent 
as  possible,  while  every  word  of  the  bitter  satire  and  fierce  in- 
vective written  against  him  by  Luby  and  O'Leary  was  being 
launched  at  his  heart.  When  articles  of  that  class  were  ex- 
hausted,  the  prisoner  turned  to  the  most  treasonable  and  sedi- 
tious documents  he  could  find,  and  commenced  the  reading  of 
them,  but  the  judges  interposed  ;  he  claimed  to  be  allowed  to 
read  a  certain  article — Judge  Keogh  objected — he  proposed  to 
read  another — that  was  objected  to  alsr — he  commenced  to 
read  another — he  was  stopped— he  tried  another — again  Judge 
Keogh  was  down  on  him — then  another — and  he  fared  no  bet- 
ter. So  the  fight  went  on  throughout  the  live-long  day,  till 
the  usual  hour  of  adjournment  had  come  and  gone,  and  the  pris- 
oner himself  was  feeling  parched,  and  weary,  and  exhausted. 
Observing  that  the  lights  were  being  now  renewed,  and  that 
their  lordships  appeared  satisfied  to  sit  out  the  night,  he  anx- 
iously inquired  if  the  proceedings  were  not  to  be  adjourned  till 
morning.  "  Proceed,  sir,"  was  th  \  stern  reply  of  the  judge, 
who  knew  that  the  physical  powers  of  the  prisoner  could  not 
hold  out  much  longer.  "  A  regular  Norbury,"  gasped  O'Dono- 
van.  "It's  like  a '98  trial."  "You  had  better  proceed,  sir, 
with  propriety,"  exclaimed  the  judge.  *'  When  do  you  propose 
stopping,  my  lord?"  again  inquired  the  prisoner.  "Proceed, 
sir,"  was  the  reiterrted  reply.  O'Donovan  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  He  had  been  reading  and  speaking  for  eight  hours  and 
a  half.  With  one  final  protest  against  the  arrangement  by 
which  Judge  Keogh  was  sent  to  try  the  cases  of  men  who  had 
written  and  published  such  articles  against  him,  he  sat  down, 
exclaiming  that  **  English  law  might  now  t^.ke  its  course." 

Next  day  the  jury  handed  down  their  vciclict  of  guilty.    The 
Attorney-General  then  addressed  the  court,  and  referred  to  the 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 


167 


previous  conviction  against  the  prisoner.  O'Donovan  was 
asked  what  he  had  to  say  in  reference  to  the  part  of  that  case? 
and  his  reply  was  that  ''  the  government  might  add  as  much  as 
they  pleased  to  the  term  of  his  sentence  on  that  account,  if  it 
was  any  satisfaction  to  them."  And  when  the  like  question 
was  put  to  him  regarding  the  present  charge,  he  said  : — 

"With  the  fact  that  the  government  seized  papers  connected  with 
tny  defence  and  examined  them — with  the  fact  that  they  packed  the 
jury — with  the  fact  that  the  government  stated  they  would  convict— 
wiii"!  the  fact  that  they  sent  Judge  Keogh,  a  second  Norbury,  to  try 
me — with  these  tacts  before  me,  it  would  be  useless  to  say  anything." 

Judge  Keogh  proceeded  to  pass  sentence.  *'The  prisoner,  ' 
he  said,  "  had  entertained  those  criminal  designs  since  the 
year  1859;"  whereupon  O'Donovan  broke  in  with  the  remark 
that  he  was  ''  an  Irishman  since  he  was  born."  The  judge 
said  *' he  would  not  waste  words  by  trying  to  bring  him  to  a 
sense  of  his  guilt;"  O'Donovan's  reply  was — "It  would  be 
useless  for  you  to  try  it."  He  was  sentenced  to  penal  servitude 
for  life.  "All  right,  my  lord,"  exclaimed  the  unconquerable 
rebel,  and  with  a  smile  to  the  sympathizing  group  around  him, 
he  walked  with  a  light  step  from  the  dock. 

The  court  was  then  adjourned  to  the  5th  of  January,  1866. 
and  next  day  the  judges  set  off  for  Cork  city,  to  dispose  of  the 
Fenian  prisoners  there  awaiting  trial. 


BRYAN  DILLON,  JOHN  LYNCH,  AND 
OTHERS. 

^  N  Wednesday,  December  i6th,  the  trial  of  O'Donovan 


(Rossa)  was  brought  to  a  conclusion  in  Dublin.  Next 
morning,  away  went  judges,  crown  lawyers,  spies,  de- 
tectives, and  informers  for  the  good  city  of  Cork,  where 
another  batch  of  men  accused  of  conspiring  against 
British  rule  in  Ireland — "  the  old  crime  of  their  race" — were 
awaiting  the   pronouncement   of    British  law  upon  their  sev* 


l68  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

eral  cases.  Cork  city  in  these  days  was  known  to  be  one  o! 
the/^a  of  disaffection;  perhaps  it  was  its  chief  stronghold. 
The  metropoHs  may  have  given  an  absolutely  largely  number 
of  members  to  the  Fenian  organization,  but  in  proportion  to 
the  number  of  its  population  the  Southern  city  was  far  more 
deeply  involved  in  the  movement.  In  Dublin,  the  seat  of  Brit- 
ish rule  in  Ireland,  many  influences  which  are  but  faintly  repre- 
sented in  other  parts  of  the  country,  are  present  and  active  to 
repress  the  national  ardor  of  the  people.  Those  influences 
are  scarcely  felt  in  the  city  of  Saint  Finbar.  Not  in  Ireland  is 
there  a  town  in  which  the  national  sentiment  is  stronger  or  more 
widely  diffused  than  in  Cork.  The  citizens  are  a  warm-hearted, 
quick-witted,  and  high-spirited  race,  gifted  with  fine  moral  qual- 
ities, and  profoundly  attached  to  the  national  faith  in  religion 
and  politics.  Merchants,  traders,  professional  men,  shopkeep- 
ers, artizans,  and  all,  are  comparatively  free  from  the  spells  of 
Dublin  Castle,  and  the  result  is  visible  in  their  conduct.  The 
crown  looks  dubiously  and  anxiously  upon  a  Cork  jury;  the 
patriot,  when  any  work  for  Ireland  is  in  hand,  looks  hopefully 
to  the  Cork  people.  The  leaders  of  the  Fenian  movement 
thoroughly  understood  these  facts,  and  devoted  much  of  their 
time  and  attention  to  the  propagation  of  their  society 
among  men  so  well  inclined  to  welcome  it.  Their  labors,  if 
labors  they  could  be  called,  were  rewarded  with  a  great  meas- 
ure of  success.  The  young  men  of  Cork  turned  into  the  organ- 
ization by  hundreds.  There  was  no  denying  the  fact ;  every 
one  knew  it ;  evidences  of  it  were  to  be  seen  on  all  sides.  The 
hope  that  was  filling  their  hearts  revealed  itself  in  a  thousand 
ways;  in  their  marchings,  their  meetings,  their  songs,  their 
music.  The  loyal  party  in  the  neighborhood  grew  alarmed, 
and  the  government  shared  their  apprehensions.  At  the  time 
of  which  we  write,  the  opinion  of  the  local  magistracy  and  that 
of  the  authorities  of  Dublin  Castle  was  that  Cork  was  a  full 
charged  mine  of  "  treason." 

Thither  was  the  Commission  now  sped,  to  carry  terror,  if  the 
"  strong  arm  of  the  law"  could  do  it,  into  the  hearts  of  those 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


169 


conspirators  "  against  the  royal  name,  style,  and  dignity"  of 
her  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria.  As  no  one  in  the  Castle  could 
say  to  what  desperate  expedients  these  people  might  have  re- 
course, it  was  thought  advisable  to  take  extraordinary  precau- 
tions to  ensure  the  safety  of  the  train  which  carried  those  im- 
portant personages,  her  Majesty's  ju  iges,  lawyers,  witnesses, 
and  informers,  through  the  Munster  counties,  and  on  to  the 
city  by  the  Lee.  "  Never  before,"  writes  the  special  correspond- 
ent of  the  Nation^  "  had  such  a  sight  been  witnessed  on  an 
Irish  railway  as  that  presented  on  Thursday  along  the  line  be- 
tween Dublin  and  Cork.  Armed  sentries  paced  each  mile  of 
the  railway  ;  the  platforms  of  the  various  stations  through 
which  the  trains  passed  were  lined  with  bodies  of  constabulary, 
and  the  bridges  and  viaducts  on  the  way  were  guarded  by  a 
force  of  military,  whose  crimson  coats  and  bright  accoutre- 
ments stood  out  in  bold  relief  from  the  dark  ground  on  v/hich 
they  were  stationed,  against  the  grey  December  sky.  As  a  fur- 
ther measure  of  precaution,  a  pilot  engine  steamed  in  advance 
of  the  train  in  which  their  lordships  sat,  one  carriage  of  which 
was  filled  with  armed  police.  And  so,  in  some  such  manner  as 
Grant  or  Sheridan  might  have  journeyed  along  the  Peters- 
burg and  Lyuchburg  railway  uhile  the  flag  of  the  Confederacy 
floated  in  Richmond,  the  two  judges  travelled  down  in  safety  to 
the  headquarters  of  Fenianism  in   Munster." 

Immediately  on  their  arrival  in  Cork,  the  judges  proceeded  to 
the  court-house,  and  formally  opened  the  business  of  the  Com- 
mission. Next  day  Charles  Underwood  O'Connell  and  John 
M'Afferty  were  placed  in  the  dock.  These  two  men  belonged 
to  a  class  which  formed  the  hope  of  the  Fenian  organization, 
and  which  the  government  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  dan- 
gerous elements  of  the  conspiracy.  They  were  Irish-American 
soldiers,  trained  to  war,  and  inured  to  the  hard^ips  of  cam- 
paigning in  the  great  struggle  which  had  but  recently  closed  in 
America.  They  were  a  sample  of  the  thousands  of  Irishmen 
who  had  acquired  in  that  practical  school  the  military  knowl- 
edge which  they  knew  was  needed  for  the  efficient  direction  of 


I/O 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK, 


ail  insurrectionary  movement  in  Ireland,  and  who  were  now 
burning  for  the  time  and  opportunity  to  turn  that  knowledge 
to  account.  It  was  known  that  many  of  these  men  were,  as 
quietly  and  secretly  as  might  be,  dropping  into  Queenstown,  as 
steamer  after  steamer  arrived  from  the  Land  of  the  West,  and 
were  moving  about  through  the  Southern  counties,  inspiriting 
the  hearts  of  the  Brotherhood  by  their  presence  and  their 
promises,  and  imparting  to  them  as  much  military  instruction 
as  was  possible  under  the  circumstances.  To  hunt  down  these 
"  foreign  emissaries,"  as  the  crown  lawyers  and  the  loyal  prints 
were  pleased  to  call  them,  and  to  deter  others  from  following 
in  their  footsteps,  was  naturally  a  great  object  with  the  gov- 
ernment, and  when  they  placed  Charles  Underwood  O'Con- 
nell  and  John  M'Afferty  in  the  dock  they  felt  they  had  made 
a  good  beginning.  And  these  were  representative  men  in 
their  way.  "■  It  was  a  strange  fate,"  says  the  writer  from  whom 
we  have  already  quoted,  ''which  had  brought  these  men  to- 
gether in  a  felon's  dock.  They  had  been  born  in  different 
lands — they  had  been  reared  thousands  of  miles  apart — and 
they  had  fought  and  won  distinction  under  different  flags,  and 
on  opposing  sides  in  the  American  war.  M'Afferty,  born  of 
Irish  parents  in  Ohio,  won  his  spurs  in  the  Confederate  army. 
O'Connell,  who  emigrated  from  Cork  little  more  than  two  years 
ago,  after  the  ruin  of  his  family  by  a  cruel  act  of  confiscation 
and  eviction,  fought  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and,  like 
M'Afferty,  obtained  a  captain's  commission  as  the  reward  of 
his  services.  Had  they  crossed  each  other's  path  two  years  ago 
they  would  probably  have  fought  a  la  mort,  but  the  old  tradi- 
tions which  linger  in  spite  of  overy  circumstance  in  the  hearts 
of  Irishmen  were  strong  in  both,  and  the  cause  of  Ireland  united 
them,  only,  alas,  that  they  might  each  of  them  pay  the  cost 
of  their  hon^t,  if  imprudent  enthusiasm,  by  sharing  the  same 
prison  in  Ireland,  and  falling  within  the  grasp  ci  the  govern- 
ment which  they  looked  on  as  the  oppressor  of  their  father* 
land." 

M'Afferty.  however,  was  not  fated  to  suffer  on  that  occasion. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


171 


Proof  of  his  foreign  birth  having  been  adduced,  the  court  held 
that  his  arrest  on  board  the  steamer  in  Queenstown  harbor, 
when  he  had  committed  no  overt  act  evidencing  a  treasonable 
intent,  was  illegal,  and  his  trial  was  abandoned.  The  trial  of 
Underwood  O'Connell  was  then  postponed  for  a  few  days,  and 
two  men  reputed  to  be  "  centres"  of  the  organization  in  Cork, 
were  brought  to  the  bar. 

They  were  Bryan  Dillon  and  John  Lynch.  Physically,  they 
presented  a  contrast  to  the  firm-built  and  wiry  soldiers  who  had 
just  quitted  the  dock.  Dillon  was  afflicted  with  curvature  of 
the  spine,  the  result  of  an  accident  in  early  life,  and  his  com- 
panion was  far  gone  in  that  blighting  and  fatal  disease,  con- 
si. mption.  But  though  they  were  not  men  for  the  toils  of 
campaigning,  for  the  mountain  march,  and  the  bivouac,  and 
the  thundering  charge  of  battle,  they  had  hearts  full  of  enthu- 
siasm for  the  cause  in  which  they  were  engaged,  and  heads 
that  could  think,  and  plot,  and  plan,  for  its  advancement. 

We  need  not  here  go  through  the  sad  details  of  their  trials. 
Our  purpose  is  to  bring  before  our  readers  the  courage  and 
the  constancy  of  the  martyrs  to  the  cause  of  Irish  nationality, 
and  to  record  the  words  in  which  they  gave  expression  to  the 
patriotic  sentiments  that  inspired  them.  It  is,  however,  to  be 
recollected  that  many  of  the  accused  at  these  commissions — 
men  as  earnest,  as  honest,  and  as  devoted  to  the  cause  of  their 
CO  mtry  as  any  that  ever  lived — made  no  such  addresses  from 
the  dock  as  we  can  include  in  this  volume.  All  men  are  not 
orators,  and  it  will  often  occur  that  one  who  has  been  tried  for 
life  and  liberty  in  a  British  court  of  law,  on  the  evidence  of 
spies  and  informers,  will  have  much  to  press  upon  his  mind, 
and  many  things  more  directly  relevant  to  the  trial  than  any 
profession  of  political  faith  would  be,  to  say  when  called  upon 
to  show  reason  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  upon 
him.  The  evidence  adduced  in  these  cases  is  usually  a  com- 
pound of  truth  and  falsehood.  Some  of  the  untruths  sworn 
to  are  simply  blunders,  resulting  from  the  confused  impressions 
and  the  defective  memory  of  the  witnesses,  others  are  deliber- 


1^2  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

ate  inventions,  made,  sworn  to,  backed  up,  and  persevered  in 
for  the  purpose  of  insuring  a  successful  result  for  the  prosecu- 
tion. Naturally,  the  first  impulse  of  the  accused,  when  he  is 
allowed  to  speak  for  himself,  is  to  refer  to  these  murderous 
falsehoods ;  and  in  the  excitement  and  trouble  of  these  critical 
moments,  it  is  all  that  some  men  can  venture  to  do.  Such 
criticisms  of  the  prosecution  are  often  valuable  to  the  prisoner 
from  a  moral  point  of  view,  but  rarely  have  they  any  influence 
upon  the  result  of  the  trial.  All  things  considered,  it  must  be 
allowed  that  they  act  best  who  do  not  forget  to  speak  the  words 
of  patriotism,  according  to  the  measure  of  their  abilities,  be- 
fore the  judge's  fiat  has  sealed  their  lips,  and  the  hand  of 
British  law  has  swept  them  away  to  the  dungeon  or  tlie 
scaffold. 

"  Guilty,"  was  the  verdict  returned  by  the  jury  against  Bryan 
Dillon  and  John  Lynch.  The  evidence  against  them  indeed 
was  strong,  but  its  chief  strength  lay  in  the  swearing  of  an  ap- 
prover named  Warner,  a  callous  and  unscrupulous  wretch,  from 
whose  mind  the  idea  of  conscience  seemed  to  have  perished 
utterly.  If  there  was  any  check  upon  the  testimony  of  this 
depraved  creature,  it  existed  only  in  some  prudential  instinct, 
suggesting  to  him  that  even  in  such  cases  as  these  a  witness 
might  possibly  overdo  his  work,  and  perhaps  in  a  caution  or 
two  given  him  in  a  private  and  confidential  manner  by  some  of 
the  managers  of  the  prosecution.  Warner's  evidence  in  this 
case  was  conclusive  to  the  minds  of  all  who  chose  to  believe  it ; 
and  therefore  it  was  that  those  prisoners  had  not  long  been  oc- 
cupants of  the  dock  when  the  question  was  put  to  them  what 
they  had  to  say  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  on  them. 
In  reply,  Bryan  Dillon  said : — 

"  My  Lords,— I  never  was  for  one  minute  in  Warner's  company. 
What  Warner  swore  about  me  was  totally  untrue.  I  never  was  at  a 
meeting  at  Geary's  house.  The  existence  of  the  Fenian  organization 
has  been  proved  sufficiently  to  your  lordships.  I  was  a  centre  in  that 
organization;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  I  had  to  take  the  chair  at  any 
meeting,  as  it  was  a  military  organization.  I  do  not  want  to 
conceal    aaytlung.     Warner    had    no    connection    with    me    what- 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


173 


r/er.  With  respect  to  the  observation  of  the  Attorney-General, 
which  pained  me  very  much,  that  it  was  intended  to  sieze  property, 
it  does  not  follow  because  of  my  social  station  that  I  intended  to 
seize  the  property  of  others.  My  belief  in  the  ultimate  independence 
of  Ireland  is  as  fixed  as  my  religious  belief — " 

At  this  point  he  was  interrupted  by  Judge  Keogh,  who  de- 
clared he  could  not  listen  to  words  that  were,  in  fact,  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  prisoner's  offence.  But  it  was  only  words  of  this 
kind  that  Bryan  Dillon  cared  to  say  at  the  time  ;  and  as  the 
privilege  of  offering  some  remarks  in  defence  of  his  political 
opinions — a  privilege  accorded  to  all  prisoners  in  trials  for 
treason  and  treason-felony  up  to  that  time — had  been  denied 
to  him,  he  chose  to  say  no  more.  And  then  the  judge  pro- 
nounced the  penalty  of  his  offending,  which  was  penal  servi- 
tude for  a  term  of  ten  years. 

John  Lynch's  turn  to  speak  came  next.  Interrogated  in  the 
usual  form,  he  stood  forward,  raised  his  feeble  frame  to  its  full 
height,  and  with  a  proud,  grave  smile  upon  his  pallid  features, 
he  thus  addressed  the  court : — 

"  I  will  say  a  very  few  words,  my  lords.  I  know  it  would  be  only 
a  waste  of  public  time  if  I  entered  into  any  explanations  of  my  politi- 
cal opinions — opinions  which  I  know  are  shared  by  the  vast  majority 
of  my  fellow-countrymen.  Starding  here  as  I  do,  will  be  to  them  the 
surest  proof  of  my  sincerity  and  honesty.  With  reference  to  the 
statement  of  Warner,  all  I  have  to  say  is,  and  I  say  it  honestly  and 
solemnly,  that  I  never  attendtd  a  meeting  at  Geary's,  that  I  never  ex- 
ercised with  a  rifle  there,  that  I  never  learned  the  use  of  the  rifle,  nor 
did  any  of  the  other  things  he  swore  to.  With  respect  to  my  opin- 
ions on  British  rule  in  this  country — " 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — "We  can't  hear  that." 

The  Prisoner — "All  I  have  to  say  is,  that  I  was  not  at  Geary's 
house  for  four  or  five  months  before  my  arrest,  so  that  Warner's  state- 
ment is  untrue.  If  having  served  my  country  honestly  and  sincerely  be 
treason,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it.  I  am  now  prepared  to  receive  any 
punishment  British  law  can  inflict  on  me." 

The  punishment  decreed  to  this  pure-minded  and  brave-spSr- 
Ited  patriot  was  ten  years  of  penal  servitude.  But  to  him  it 
uras  practically  a  sentence  of  death.     The  rigors  and  horrors  of 


174 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


prison-life  were  more  than  his  failing  constitution  could  long 
endure ;  and  but  a  few  months  from  the  date  of  his  conviction 
elapsed  when  his  countrymen  were  pained  by  the  intelligence 
that  the  faithful-hearted  John  Lynch  filled  a  nameless  grave  in 
an  English  prison-yard.  He  died  in  the  hospital  of  Woking 
prison,  on  the  2d  day  of  June,  1866. 

When  Bryan  Dillon  and  John  Lynch  were  removed  from  the 
dock  (Tuesday,  December  19th),  two  men  named  Jeremiah 
Donovan  and  John  Duggan  were  put  forward,  the  former 
charged  with  having  been  a  centre  in  the  Fenian  organization, 
and  the  latter  with  having  sworn  some  soldiers  into  the  So- 
ciety. Both  were  found  guilty.  Donovan  made  no  remarks 
when  called  upon  for  what  he  had  to  say.  Duggan  contradicted 
the  evidence  of  the  witnesses  on  several  points,  and  said : — 

"  I  do  not  state  those  things  in  order  to  change  the  sentence  I  am 
about  to  receive.  I  know  your  lordships'  minds  are  made  up  on  that. 
I  state  these  merely  to  show  what  kind  of  tools  the  British  govern- 
ment employ  to  procure  those  convictions.  I  have  only  to  say,  and  I 
appeal  to  any  intelligent  man  for  his  opinion,  that  the  manner  in 
which  the  jury-list  was  made  out  for  these  trials  clearly  shows  that  in 
this  country  political  trials  are  a  mere  mockery. " 

At  this  point  the  judge  cut  short  the  prisoner's  address,  and 
the  two  men  were  sentenced,  Donovan  to  five  years,  and  Dug* 
gan  to  ten  years  of  penal  servitude. 

The  trial  of  Underwood  O'Connell  was  then  proceeded  with. 
It  concluded  on  December  21st,  with  a  verdict  of  guilty.  In 
response  to  the  question  which  was  then  addressed  to  him,  he 
spoke  to  him  at  considerable  length,  detailing  the  manner  of 
his  arrest,  complaining  of  the  horrible  indignities  to  which  he 
had  been  subjected  in  prison,  and  asserting  that  he  had  not 
received  a  fair  and  impartial  trial.  He  spoke  amidst  a  run- 
ning fire  of  interruptions  from  the  court,  and  when  he  came  to 
refer  to  his  political  opinions,  his  discourse  was  peremptorily 
suppressed.  ''  The  sentiments  and  hopes  that  animate  me," 
he  said,  "are  well  known."  "  Really,  we  will  not  hear  those 
observations,"  interposed  Mr.  Justice  Keogh.     *'  It  has  been 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK.  ty^ 

brought  forward  here/'  said  the  prisoner,  "  that  I  held  a  com- 
mission in  the 99th  Regiment — in  Colonel  O'Mahony's  Regiment. 
Proud  as  I  am  of  having  held  a  commission  in  the  United 
States  service,  I  am  equally  proud  of  holding  command  under 
a  man — "  Here  his  speech  was  stopped  by  the  judges,  and 
Mr.  Justice  Keogh  proceeded  to  pass  sentence.  In  the  course 
of  his  address  his  lordship  made  the  following  observations: — 

"  You,  it  appears,  went  to  America  ;  you  entered  yourself  in  the 
American  army,  thus  violating,  to  a  certain  extent,  your  allegiance  as 
a  British  subject.  But  that  is  not  the  offence  you  are  charged  with 
here  to-day.  You  say  you  swore  allegiance  to  the  American  Repub- 
lic, but  no  man  by  so  doing  can  relieve  himself  from  his  allegiance  to 
the  British  crown.  From  the  moment  a  man  is  born  in  this  country 
he  owes  allegiance,  he  is  a  subject." 

Hearing  these  words,  and  remembering  the  great  outcry  that 
was  being  made  by  the  friends  of  the  government  against  the 
Irish-American  Fenians,  on  the  ground  that  they  were  "  for- 
eigners," the  prisoner  interposed  the  apt  remark  on  his  lord- 
ship's legal  theory : — 

"  If  that  is  so,  why  am  I  charged  with  bringing  over  foreigners — ■ 
John  O'Mahony  is  no  foreigner." 

To  that  remark  Judge  Keogh  did  not  choose  to  make  any 
reply.  It  overturned  him  completely.  Nothing  could  better 
exhibit  the  absurdity  of  railing  against  those  Irishmen  as 
*' foreigners"  in  one  breath,  and  in  the  next  declaring  their 
allegiance  to  the  British  crown  perpetual  and  inalienable.  His 
lordship  may  have  winced  as  the  point  was  so  quickly  and 
neatly  brought  home  to  him  ;  but  at  all  events,  he  went  on  with 
his  address,  and  informed  the  prisoner  that  his  punishment  was 
to  be  ten  years  of  penal  servitude.  Upon  which,  the  comment 
of  the  prisoner  as  he  quitted  the  dock,  was  that  he  hoped  there 
would  be  an  exchange  of  prisoners  before  that  time. 

In  quick  succession,  four  men,  named  Casey.  Regan,  Hayes, 
and  Barry,  were  tried,  convicted,  and  Sentenced.  Each  in  turn 
impugned  the  evidence  of  the  informer,  Warner,  protested 
against  the  constitution  of  the  jufies,  and  attempted  to  say  a 


1^6  SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 

few  words  declaratory  of  their  devotion  to  the  cauie  of  Ire 
land.  But  the  judges  were  quick  to  suppress  every  attempt 
of  this  kind,  and  only  a  few  fragments  of  sentences  are  on  re« 
cord  to  indicate  the  thoughts  to  which  these  soldiers  of  liberty 
would  have  given  expression,  if  the  opportunity  had  not  been 
denied  to  them. 

John  Kennealy  was  the  next  occupant  of  the  dock.  He  was 
a  young  man  of  high  personal  character,  and  of  great  intelli- 
gence, and  was  a  most  useful  member  of  the  organization,  his 
calling — that  of  commercial  traveller — enabling  him  to  act  as 
agent  and  missionary  of  the  Society  without  attracting  to  him- 
self the  suspicion  which  would  be  aroused  by  the  movements  of 
other  men.  In  his  case  also  the  verdict  was  given  in  the  one  fatal 
word.  And  when  asked  what  he  had  to  say  for  himself,  his  reply 
was  in  these  few  forcible  and  dignified  sentences : — 

"  My  Lord, — It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  say  anything,  I  am 
sure,  from  the  charge  of  your  lordship,  the  jury  could  find  no  other 
verdict  than  has  been  found.  The  verdict  against  me  hat  been 
found  by  the  means  by  which  political  convictions  have  alwa)i  been 
found  in  this  country.  As  to  the  informer,  Warner,  I  have  only  to 
say  that  directly,  or  indirectly,  I  never  was  in  the  same  room  with  him, 
nor  had  he  any  means  of  knowing  my  political  opinions.  As  to  my 
connection  with  Mr.  Luby,  I  am  proud  of  that  connection.  I  neither 
regret  it,  nor  anything  else  I  have  done,  politically  or  otherwise." 

On  the  conclusion  of  this  trial,  on  Saturday,  January  2d, 
1866,  two  other  cases  were  postponed  without  option  of  bail; 
some  other  persons  were  allowed  to  stand  out  on  sureties,  and 
we  read  that  "  John  M'Aflerty  and  William  Mackay,  being 
aliens,  were  admitted  to  bail  on  their  own  recognizance,  and 
Judge  Keogh  said  that  if  they  left  the  country  they  would  not 
be  required  up  for  trial  when  called."  We  read  also,  in  the  news- 
papers of  that  time,  that  "  The  prisoners  M'Afferty  and  Mackay 
when  leaving  the  court,  were  followed  by  large  crowds  who 
cheered  them  loudly  through  the  streets." 

The  Cork  Commission  was  then  formally  closed,  and  next 
day  the  judges  set  off  to  resume  in  Dublin  the  work  of  trying 
Irish  conspirators  against  the  rule  of  England  over  their  native 


CHARLES    J.    KICKHAM. 

ilD^.N  o'L|:Ai?y.  THpiyiA?  PLari>  i-UBfy. 


S^££CHES  FROM   THE  DOCH. 


w 


CHARLES  JOSEPH  KICKHAM. 

N  the  year  1825,  in  the  village  of  Mullinahone, 
County  Tipperary,  Charles  J.  Kickham  first  saw  the 
light.  His  father,  John  Kickham,  was  proprietor  of 
the  chief  drapery  establishment  in  that  place,  and 
was  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  whole  country  round 
about  for  his  integrity,  intelligence,  and  patriotic 
spirit.  During  the  boyhood  of  young  Kickham,  the  Repeal 
agitation  was  at  his  height,  and  he  soon  became  thoroughly 
versed  in  its  arguments,  and  inspired  by  its  principles,  which 
he  often  heard  discussed  in  his  father's  shop,  and  by  his  hearth, 
and  amongst  all  his  friends  and  acquaintances.  Like  all  the 
young  people  of  the  time,  and  a  great  many  of  the  old  ones, 
his  sympathies  went  with  the  Young  Ireland  party  at  the  time 
of  their  withdrawal  from  the  Repeal  ranks.  In  1848  he  was  the 
leading  spirit  of  the  Confederation  Club  at  Mullinahone,  which 
he  was  mainly  instrumental  in  founding;  and  after  i\\e  fiasco  dX 
Ballingarry  he  was  obliged  to  conceal  himself  for  some  time,  in 
consequence  of  the  part  he  had  taken  in  rousing  the  people  of 
his  native  village  to  action.  When  the  excitement  of  that 
period  had  subsided,  he  again  appeared  in  his  father's  house, 
resumed  his  accustomed  sports  of  fishing  and  fowling,  and 
devoted  much  of  his  time  to  literary  pursuits,  for  which  he  had 
great  natural  capacity,  and  towards  which  he  was  all  the  more 
inclined  because  of  the  blight  put  upon  his  social  powers  by 
an  unfortunate  accident  which  occurred  to  him  when  about  the 
age  of  thirteen  years.  Hs  had  brought  a  flask  of  powder  near 
the  fire,  and  was  engaged  either  in  the  operation  of  drying  it, 
or  casting  some  grains  into  the  coal  for  amusement,  when  the 
whole  quantity  exploded.  The  shock  and  the  injuries  he  sus- 
tained nearly  proved  fatal  to  him ;  when  he  recovered,  it  was 
with  his  hearing  nearly  quite  destroyed,  and  his  sight  perman- 
tntly  impaired.    But  Kickham  had  the  poet's  soul  within  him, 


178  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCIC, 

and  it  was  his  compensation  for  the  losses  he  had  sustained 
He  could  still  hold  communion  with  nature,  and  with  his  own 
mind,  and  could  give  to  the  national  cause  the  service  of  a  bold 
heart  and  a  finely-cultivated  intellect.    Subsequent  to  the  decad- 
ence of  the  '48  movement,  he  wrote  a  good  deal  in  prose  and 
verse,  and  contributed  gratuitously  to  various  national  publica- 
tions.    His  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  character  and  hab- 
its  of  the   peasantry  gave   a  great   charm   to   his   stories  and 
sketches  of  rural  life;  and  his  poems  were  always  marked  by 
grace,  simplicity,  and  tenderness.     Many  of  them  have  attained 
a  large  degree  of   popularity  amongst   his  countrymen  in  Ire- 
land and  elsewhere,  and  taken  a  permanent  place  in  the  poetic 
literature  of  the  Irish  race.     Amongst  these,  his  ballads  entitled 
"Patrick  Sheehan,"  "  Rory  of  the  Hill,"  and  "The  Irish  Peas- 
ant Girl,"  are  deserving  of  special  mention.     To  these  remarks 
it   remains   to  be  added   that   as   regards    personal    character, 
Charles  J.  Kickham  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  of  men.     He 
was  generous  and  kindly  by  nature,  and  was  a  pious  member 
of  the  Catholic  Church,  to  which  his  family  had  given  pnests 
and  nuns. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  the  myrmidons  of  the  law  placed 
in  the  dock  of  Green  Street  court-house,  when  on  January  5th, 
1866,  after  the  return  of  the  judges  from  Cork,  the  Commission 
was  re-opened  in  Dublin.  His  appearance  was  somewhat  pe- 
culiar. He  was  a  taU,  strong,  rough-bearded  man,  with  that 
strained  expression  of  face  which  is  often  worn  by  people  of 
dim  sight.  Around  his  neck  he  wore  an  india-rubber  tube,  or 
ear  trumpet,  through  which  any  words  that  were  necessary  to 
be  addressed  to  him  were  shouted  into  his  ear  by  some  of  his 
friends,  or  by  his  solicitor.  His  trial  did  not  occupy  much 
time,  for  on  the  refusal  of  the  crown  lawyers  and  judges  to  pro- 
duce the  convict,  Thomas  Clarke  Luby,  whom  he  conceived  to 
be  a  material  witness  for  his  defence,  he  directed  his  lawyers 
to  abandon  the  case,  and  contented  himself  with  reading  to  the 
court  some  remarks  on  the  evidence  which  had  been  offered 
against  him.     The  chief  feature  in  this  address  was  his  denial 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK.  f7g 

of  all  knowledge  of  the  "  executive  document;"  he  had  nevet 
seen  or  heard  of  it  until  it  turned  up  in  connection  with  those 
trials.  Referring  to  one  of  the  articles  with  the  authorship  of 
which  he  was  charged,  he  said  he  wondered  how  any  Irishman, 
taking  into  consideration  what  had  occurred  in  Ireland  during 
the  last  eighty-four  years,  could  hesitate  to  say  to  the  enemy — 
*'Give  us  our  country  to  ourselves,  and  let  us  see  what  we  can 
do  with  it."  Alluding  to  a  report  that  the  government  con. 
templated  making  some  concession  to  the  claims  of  the  Catho- 
lic bishops,  he  remarked  that  concessions  to  Ireland  had  al- 
ways  been  a  result  of  Fenianism  in  one  shape  or  another,  and 
that  he  believed  the  present  manifestation  of  the  national 
spirit  would  have  weight,  as  former  ones  had,  with  the  rulers 
of  the  country.  As  regards  the  landed  class  in  Ireland,  the 
Irish  People,  he  contended,  had  said  nothing  more  than  was 
said  by  Thomas  Davis,  whose  works  every  one  admired.  That 
eminent  Irishman,  afflicted  and  stung  to  the  heart  by  witness- 
ing the  system  of  depopulation  which  was  going  on  throughout 
the  country,  had  written  these  words  : — 

"  God  of  Justice,  I  sighed,  send  your  Spirit  down 
On  these  lords  so  cruel  and  proud, 
And  soften  their  hearts,  and  relax  their  frown, 
Or  else,  I  cried  aloud, 
Vouchsafe  Thy  strength  to  the  peasant's  hand 
To  drive  them  at  length  from  out  the  land." 

He  had  not  gone  farther  than  the  writer  of  these  lines,  and 
now,  he  said,  they  might  send  him  to  a  felon's  doom  if  they 
liked. 

And  they  did  send  him  to  it.  Judge  Keogh,  before  passing 
sentence,  asked  him  if  he  had  any  further  remarks  to  make  in 
reference  to  his  case.     Mr.^Kickham  briefly  replied  : — 

"  I  believe,  my  lords,  I  have  said  enough  already.  I  will  only  add 
that  I  am  convicted  for  doing  nothing  but  my  duty.  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  serve  Ireland,  and  now  I  am  prepared  to  suffer  for  Ireland.** 

Then  the  judge,  with  many  expressions  of  sympathy  for  the 


l8o  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCJf, 

prisoner,  and  many  compliments  in  reference  to  his  intellectual 
attainments,  sentenced  him  to  be  kept  in  penal  servitude  for  four- 
teen years.  His  solicitor,  Mr.  John  Lawless,  announced  the 
fact  to  him  through  his  ear  trumpet.  Charles  J.  Kickham 
bowed  to  the  judges,  and  with  an  expression  of  perfect  tran- 
quillity on  his  features,  went  into  captivity. 


GENERAL  THOMAS  F.  BURKE. 

HE  year  of  grace,  1867,  dawned  upon  a  cloudy  and 
troublous  period  in  Irish  politics.  There  was  danger 
brewing  throughout  the  land  ;  under  the  crust  of  so. 
ciety  the  long  confined  lava  of  Fenianism  effervesced 
and  glowed.  There  were  strange  rumors  in  the  air; 
strange  sounds  were  heard  at  the  dead  of  night  on 
the  hill-sides  and  in  the  meadows;  and  through  the  dim  moon- 
light, masses  of  men  were  seen  in  secluded  spots,  moving  in 
regular  bodies,  and  practising  military  evolutions.  From  castle, 
and  mansion,  and  country-seat,  the  spectre  of  alarm  glided  to 
and  fro,  whispering  with  bloodless  lips,  of  coming  convulsions 
and  slaughter,  of  the  opening  of  the  crater  of  revolution,  and 
of  a  war  against  property  and  class.  Symptoms  of  danger  were 
everywhere  seen  and  felt ;  the  spirit  of  disaiTection  had  not 
been  crushed  ;  it  rode  on  the  night-wind,  and  glistened  against 
the  rising  sun  ;  it  filled  rath,  and  fort,  and  crumbling  ruin  with 
mysterious  sounds  ;  it  was  seen  in  the  brightening  eyes  and  the 
bold  demeanor  of  the  peasantry;  in  the  signals  passing  amongst 
the  people ;  in  their  secret  gatherings  and  closely-guarded  con- 
claves. For  years  and  years  Fenianism  had  been  threatening, 
boasting,  and  promising,  and  now  the  fury  of  the  storm,  long 
pent-up,  was  about  to  burst  forth  over  the  land — the  hour  for 
action  was  at  hand. 

Between  the  conviction   of  Luby,  O'Leary,  and    Kickham, 


CENTRAL   THOMAS   F.   BURKE. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK:.  jgl 

and  the  period  at  which  we  are  now  arrived,  many  changes  of 
importance  had  taken  place  in  the  Fenian  organization.  In 
America,  the  Society  had  been  revolutionized — it  had  found 
new  leaders,  new  principles,  new  plans  of  action ;  it  had  passed 
through  the  ordeal  of  war,  and  held  its  ground  amidst  flashing 
swords,  and  the  smoke  of  battle ;  it  had  survived  the  shocks 
of  division,  disappointment,  and  failure ;  treachery,  incapacity, 
and  open  hostility,  had  failed  to  shatter  it ;  and  it  grew  apace 
in  strength,  influence,  and  resources.  At  home,  Fenianism, 
while  losing  little  in  numerical  strength,  had  declined  in 
effectiveness,  in  prestige,  in  discipline,  and  in  organization. 
Its  leaders  had  been  swept  into  the  prisons,  and  though  men 
perhaps  as  resolute  stepped  forward  to  fill  the  vacant  places, 
there  was  a  loss  in  point  of  capacity  and  intelligence,  and  to 
the  keen  observer  it  became  apparent  that  the  Fenian  Society 
in  Ireland  had  attained  to  the  zenith  of  its  power  on  the  day 
that  the  Irish  People  office  was  sacked  by  the  police.  Never 
again  did  the  prospects  of  Fenianism,  whatever  they  might 
then  have  been,  look  equally  bright ;  and  when  the  Brother- 
hood at  length  sprang  to  action,  they  fought  with  a  sword  al- 
ready broken  to  the  hilt,  and  under  circumstances  the  most 
ominous  and  inauspicious.  ^ 

The  recent  history  of  the  Fenian  movement  is  so  thoroughly 
understood  that  anything  like  a  detailed  account  of  its  changes 
and  progress  is,  in  these  pages,  unnecessary.  We  shall  only 
say  that  when  James  Stephens  arrived  in  America,  in  May, 
1866,  after  escaping  from  Richmond  prison,  he  found  the 
Society  in  the  States  split  up  into  two  opposing  parties 
between  whom  a  violent  quarrel  was  raging.  John  O'Mahony 
had  been  deposed  from  his  position  of  '*  Head  Centre" 
by  an  all  but  unanimous  vote  of  the  Senate,  or  gov- 
erning body  of  the  association,  who  charged  him  and  his  offi- 
cials with  a  reckless  and  corrupt  expenditure  of  the  Society's 
funds,  and  these  in  turn  charged  the  Senate  party  with  the 
crime  of  breaking  up  the  organization  for  mere  personal  and 
party  purposes.     A  large  section  of  the  Society  still  adhered  to 


jg2  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

O'Mahony,  in  consideration  of  his  past  services  in  their  cause 
but  the  greater  portion  of   it,  and   nearly  all   its  oldest,  best 
known  and  most  trusted  leaders  gave  their  allegiance  to  th^ 
Senate,  and  to  its  elected  President,  William   R.  Roberts,  an 
Irish  merchant  of  large  means,  of  talent  and  energy,  of  high 
character    and    unquestionable  devotion  to  the    cause    of   his 
country.     Many  friends  of  the  Brotherhood  hoped  that  James 
Stephens  would  seek  to  heal  the  breach  between  these  parties, 
but  the  course   he  took  was  not  calculated   to  effect  that  pur- 
pose.    He  denounced  the  "  Senators"  in  the  most  extravagant 
terms,  and  invited  both  branches  of  the  organization  to  unite 
under  himself  as  supreme  and  irresponsible  leader  and  gover- 
nor of  the  entire  movement.     The  O'Mahony  section  did  not 
answer  very  heartily  to  this  invitation  ;  the  Senate  party  indig- 
nantly rejected  it,  and  commenced  to  occupy  themselves  with 
preparations  for  an  immediate  grapple  with  British  power  in 
Canada.     Thu      men  were  thoroughly  in  earnest,  and  the  fact 
became  plain  to   every  intelligence,  when  in  the  latter  part  of 
May,  1866,  the  Fenian  contingents  from  the  various  States  of 
the  Union  began  to  concentrate  on  the  Canadian  border.      On 
the  morning  of  the  ist  of  June  some  hundreds  of  them  crossed 
the  Niagara  river,  and  took   possession  of  the  village  of   Fort 
Erie,  on  the  Canadian  side.      They  were  soon  confronted  with 
detachments  of  the  volunteer  force  which  had  been  collected  to 
resist  the  invasion,  and  at  Limestone  Ridge  they  were  met  by 
the ''  Queen's    Own"  regiment   of    volunteers   from    Toronto, 
under  the  command  of  Colonel  Booker.  A  smart  battle  ensued, 
the  result  of  which  was  that  the -'Queen's  Own"  were   utterly 
routed  by  the  Irish  under  Colonel  John  O'Neil,  and  forced  to 
run  in  wild  confusion  for  a  town  some  miles  distant.  Colonel 
Booker  on  his  charger  leading  the  way,  and  distancing  all  com- 
petitors.    Had  the  Irish  been  allowed  to  follow  up  this  victory 
it  is  not  unlikely  that  they  would  have  swept  Canada  clear  of 
the   British    forces,  and  then,  according  to  their  programme, 
made  that   country   their  base  of    operations    against   British 
power  in  Ireland.     But  the  American  government  interfered, 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


-^"^l 


and  put  an  effectual  stopper  on  their  progress ;  they  seized  the 
arms  of  the  Irish  soldiers  on  the  frontier,  they  sent  up  large 
parties  of  the  States'  soldiery  to  prevent  the  crossing  of  hostile 
parties  into  British  territory,  and  stationed  war-vessels  in  the 
river  for  the  same  purpose.  Reinforcements  being  thus  cut  off 
from  them,  the  victors  of  Limestone  Ridge  found  themselves 
under  the  necessity  of  re-crossing  the  river  to  the  American 
shore,  which  they  did  on  the  night  of  the  2nd  of  June,  bring- 
ing with  them  the  flags  and  other  trophies  which  they  had  cap- 
tured from  the  royal  troops. 

The  first  brush  between  the  Fenian  forces  and  the  Queen's 
troops  inspired  the  former  with  high  hopes,  and  with  great  con- 
fidence in  their  capacity  to  humble  ''  the  English  red  below 
the  Irish  green,"  if  only  they  could  start  on  anything  like  fair 
terms.  But  now  that  the  American  government  had  forbidden 
the  fight  in  Canada,  what  was  to  be  done?  James  Stephens 
answered  that  question.  He  would  have  a  fight  in  Ireland — 
the  right  place,  he  contended,  in  which  to  fight  for  Ireland. 
The  home  organization  was  subject  to  his  control,  and  would 
spring  to  arms  at  his  bidding.  He  would  not  only  bid  them 
fight,  but  would  lead  them  to  battle,  and  that  at  no  distant 
day.  The  few  remaining  months  of  1866  would  not  pass  away 
without  witnessing  the  commencement  of  the  struggle.  So  he 
said,  and  so  he  swore  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  at  various 
public  meetings  which  he  had  called  for  the  purpose  of  obtain- 
ing funds  wherewith  to  carry  on  the  confiict.  The  prudence  of 
thus  publishing  the  date  which  he  had  fixed  for  the  outbreak 
of  the  insurrection  was  very  generally  questioned,  but  however 
great  might  be  his  error  in  this  respect,  many  believed  that  he 
would  endeavor  to  make  good  his  words.  The  British  govern- 
ment believed  it,  and  prepared  for  the  threatened  rising  by 
hurrying  troops  and  munitions  of  war  across  to  Ireland,  and 
putting  the  various  forts  and  barracks  in  a  state  of  thorough 
defence.  As  the  last  days  and  nights  of  1866  wore  away,  both 
the  government  and  the  people  expected  every  moment  to 
bear  the  first  crash  of  the  struggle.     But  it  came  not.     The 


1 84  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

year  1867  came  in,  and  still  all  was  quiet.  What  had  becom:^'  c\ 
James  Stephens?  The  astonished  and  irate  Fenians  of  I\^\v 
York  investigated  the  matter,  and  found  that  he  was  peace* 
fully  and  very  privately  living  at  lodgings  in  some  part  of  that 
city,  afraid  to  face  the  wrath  of  the  men  whom  he  had  so  egre- 
giously  deceived.  We  need  not  describe  the  outburst  of  rage 
and  indignation  which  followed  on  the  discovery ;  suffice  it  to 
say  that  the  once  popular  and  powerful  Fenian  leader  soon  found 
it  prudent  to  quit  the  United  States,  and  take  up  his  abode  in  a 
part  of  the  world  where  there  were  no  Fenian  circles  and  no 
settlements  of  the  swarming  Irish  race. 

Amongst  the  men  who  had  rallied  round  James  Stephens  in 
America  there  were  many  whose  honesty  was  untainted,  and 
who  had  responded  to  his  call  with  the  full  intention  of  com- 
mitting themselves,  without  regard  to  consequences,  to  the 
struggle  which  he  promised  to  initiate.  They  believed  his  re- 
presentations respecting  the  prospects  of  an  insurrection  in 
Ireland,  and  they  pledged  themselves  to  fight  by  his  side  and 
perish,  if  necessary,  in  the  good  old  cause,  in  defence  of  which 
their  fathers  had  bled.  They  scorned  to  violate  their  engage- 
ments ;  they  spurned  the  idea  of  shrinking  from  the  difficulty 
they  had  pledged  themselves  to  face,  and  resolved  that  come 
what  may,  the  reproach  of  cowardice  and  bad  faith  should  never 
be  uttered  against  them.  Accordingly,  in  January,  '^j,  they 
began  to  land  in  scattered  parties  at  Queenstown,  and  spread 
themselves  through  the  country,  taking  every  precaution  to 
escape  the  suspicion  of  the  police.  They  set  to  work  diligently 
and  energetically  to  organize  an  insurrectionary  outbreak  ;  they 
found  innumerable  difficulties  in  their  path ;  they  found  the 
people  almost  wholly  unarmed  ;  they  found  the  wisest  of  the 
Fenian  leaders  opposed  to  an  immediate  outbreak,  but  still 
they  persevered.  How  ably  they  performed  their  work  there 
is  plenty  of  evidence  to  show,  and  if  the  Irish  outbreak  of  '6'J 
was  short-lived  and  easily  suppressed,  it  was  far  from  contempt- 
ible in  the  preconcert  and  organization  which  it  evidenced. 

One  hitch  did  occur  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  designsi 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


185 


On  Wednesday,  February  13th,  the  exciting  news  was  flashed 
throughout  the  land  that  the  Fenians  had  broken  into  insurrec- 
tion at  Kerry.  The  news  was  true.  The  night  of  the  12th  of 
February  had  been  fixed  for  a  simultaneous  rising  of  the  Fen- 
ians in  Ireland  ;  but  the  outbreak  had  been  subsequently  post- 
poned, and  emissaries  were  dispatched  to  all  parts  of  the  coun, 
try  with  the  intelligence  o^  the  change  of  date.  The  change 
of  date  was  everywhere  learned  in  time  to  prevent  premature 
action  except  at  Cahirciveen,  in  the  west  of  Kerry,  where  the 
members  of  the  Brotherhood,  acting  upon  the  orders  received, 
unearthed  their  arms,  and  gaily  proceeded  towards  Killarney 
to  form  a  junction  with  the  insurgents  whom  they  imagined 
had  converged  from  various  parts  of  the  county  in  that  town. 
Before  many  hours  had  elapsed  they  discovered  their  mistake — 
they  heard  before  arriving  at  Killarney  that  they  were  the  only 
representatives  of  the  Irish  Republic  that  had  appeared  in  the 
field,  and  turning  to  the  mountains  they  broke  up  and  disap- 
peared. 

Short-lived  as  was  their  escapade,  it  filled  the  heart  of  Eng. 
land  with  alarm.  In  hot  haste  the  Jiabcas  corpus  suspension 
act,  which  had  been  permitted  to  laspe  a  month  before,  was 
re-enacted  ;  the  arrests  and  police  raids  were  renewed,  and  from 
the  Giant's  Causeway  to  Cape  Clear  the  gaols  were  filled  with 
political  prisoners.  Still  the  Irish-Americans  worked  on  ;  some 
of  them  were  swept  off  to  prison,  but  the  greater  number  of 
them  managed  to  escape  detection,  and  spite  of  the  vigilance 
of  the  authorities,  and  the  extraordinary  power  possessed  by 
the  government  and  its  officials,  they  managed  to  carry  on  the 
business  of  the  organization,  to  mature  their  plans,  and  to  per- 
fect their  arrangements  for  the  fray. 

We  do  not  propose  to  write  here  a  detailed  account  of  the 
last  of  the  outbreaks  which,  since  the  Anglo-Norman  invasion, 
have  periodically  convulsed  our  country.  The  time  is  not  yet 
^ome  when  the  whole  history  of  that  extraordinary  movement 
•an  be  revealed,  and  such  of  its  facts  as  are  now  available  for 
publication,  are   fresh  in  the  minds  of   our   readers.     On   the 


786  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

night  of  the  5th  of  March,  the  Fenian  bands  took  the  field  in 
Dublin,  Louth,  Tipperary,  Cork,  Waterford,  Limerick,  and 
Clare.  They  were,  in  all  cases,  wretchedly  armed,  their  plans 
had  been  betrayed  by  unprincipled  associates,  and  ruin  tracked 
their  venture  from  the  outset.  They  were  everywhere  con-i 
fronted  by  well-armed,  disciplined  men,  and  their  reckless  cour- 
age could  not  pluck  success  from  the  maze  of  adverse  circum- 
stances that  surrounded  them.  The  elements,  too,  befriended 
England,  as  they  had  often  done  before.  Hardly  had  the  insur^ 
gents  left  their  homes,  when  the  clear  March  weather  gave  place 
to  the  hail  and  snow  of  mid-winter.  The  howling  storm,  edged 
by  the  frost  and  hail,  swept  over  mountain  and  valley,  render- 
ing life  in  the  open  air  all  but  impossible  to  man.  The  weather 
in  itself  would  have  been  sufficient  to  dispose  of  the  Fenian  in- 
surgents. Jaded  and  exhausted,  they  returned  to  their  homes, 
and  twenty-four  hours  after  the  flag  of  revolt  had  been  un- 
furled the  Fenian  insurrection  was  at  an  end. 

Amongst  the  Irish  officers  who  left  America  to  share  in  the 
expected  battle  for  Irish  rights,  a  conspicuous  place  must  be 
assigned  Thomas  F.  Burke.  He  was  born  at  Fethard,  county 
Tipperary,  on  the  loth  of  December,  1840,  and  twelve  years 
later  sailed  away  towards  the  setting  sun,  his  parents  having 
resolving  on  seeking  a  home  in  the  far  West.  In  New  York, 
young  Burke  attended  the  seminary  established  by  the  late 
Archbishop  Hughes,  where  he  received  an  excellent  education, 
after  which  he  was  brought  up  to  his  father's  trade — that  of 
house-painter.  For  many  years  he  worked  steadily  at  his 
trade,  contributing  largely  to  the  support  of  his  family.  The 
outbreak  of  the  war,  however,  acted  in  the  same  manner  on 
Burke's  temperament  as  on  thousands  of  his  fellow-countrymen. 
He  threw  aside  his  peaceful  avocation,  and  joined  the  Confed- 
erate army.  He  served  under  General  Patrick  Cleburne,  who 
died  in  his  arms,  and  he  fought  side  by  side  with  the  son  of 
another  distinguished  exile,  John  Mitchel.  When  the  war  had 
closed  he  returned  a  Brevet-General,  northwards,  with  a  shat- 
tered limb,  and  an  impaired  constitution.     In  June,  1865,  he 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIt.  I87 

joined  the  Wolfe  Tone  Circle  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  in 
New  York,  and  was  appointed  soon  afterwards  to  act  as  organ* 
izer  in  the  Brotherhood  for  the  district  of  Manhattan.  He 
filled  this  post  with  great  satisfaction  to  his  associates,  and  con- 
tinued to  labor  energetically  in  this  capacity  until  his  departure 
for  Ireland,  at  the  close  of  1866. 

Tipperary  was  assigned  to  Burke  as  the  scene  of  his  revolu- 
tionary labors  in  Ireland.  He  arrived  in  Clonmel  early  in  Feb- 
ruary, where  he  was  arrested  on  suspicion,  but  was  immediately 
discharged — his  worn  appearance  and  physical  infirmity  giving 
strong  corroboration  of  his  assertion,  that  he  had  come  to  Ire- 
land for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  On  the  night  of  the  insur- 
rection he  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Fenian  party  that 
assembled  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tipperary,  but  he  quickly 
saw  the  folly  of  attempting  a  revolution  with  the  scanty  band 
of  unarmed  men  that  rallied  round  him.  On  the  evening  of 
the  6th  his  followers  were  attacked  by  a  detachment  of  sol- 
diers at  Ballyhurst  Fort,  about  three  miles  from  Tipperary ; 
Burke  saw  the  uselessness  of  resistance,  and  advised  his  followers 
to  disperse — an  injunction  which  they  appear  to  have  obeyed. 
Burke  himself  was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  captured.  He 
was  conveyed  to  the  jail  of  Tipperary,  and  was  brought  to 
trial  in  the  Green  Street  court-house,  in  Dublin,  on  the  24th  of 
April  following.  He  was  convicted  of  high  treason,  and  sen- 
tenced to  death  in  the  usual  form.  The  following  speech,  de- 
livered by  him  after  conviction,  is  well  worthy  of  a  place  in  the 
Irish  heart : — 

"My  Lords, — It  is  not  my  intention  to  occupy  much  of  your 
time  in  answering  the  question — what  I  have  to  say  why  sentence 
should  not  be  passed  upon  me  ?  But  I  may  with  your  permis- 
sion review  a  little  of  the  evidence  that  has  been  brought  against 
me.  The  first  evidence  that  I  would  speak  of  is  that  of  Sub-Inspector 
Kelly,  who  had  a  conversation  with  me  in  Clonmel.  He  states  that 
he  asked  me  either  how  was  my  friend,  or  what  about  my  friend,  Mr. 
Stephens,  and  that  I  made  answer  and  said,  that  he  was  the  most 
idolized  man  that  ever  had  been,  or  that  ever  would  be  in  America. 
Here,  standing  on  the  brink  of  my  grave,  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
Almighty  and  ever-living  God,  I  brand  that  as  being  the  foulest  per- 


Ig3  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

jury  that  ever  man  gave  utterance  to.  In  any  conversation  that  oc- 
curred, the  name  of  Stephens  was  not  mentioned.  I  shall  pass  from 
that,  and  then  touch  on  the  evidence  of  Brett.  He  states  that  I  as- 
sisted in  distributing  the  bread  to  the  parties  in  the  fort,  and  that  I 
stood  with  him  in  the  wagon  or  cart.  This  is  also  false.  I  was  not  in 
the  fort  at  the  time  ;  I  was  not  there  when  the  bread  was  distributed. 
I  came  in  afterwards.  Both  of  these  assertions  have  been  made  and 
submitted  to  the  men  in  whose  hands  my  life  rested,  as  evidence  made 
on  oath  by  these  men — made  solely  and  purely  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  my  body  to  an  untimely  grave.  There  are  many  points,  my 
lords,  that  have  been  sworn  to  here  to  prove  my  complicity  in  a  great 
many  acts  it  has  been  alleged  I  took  part  in.  It  is  not  my  desire  now, 
my  lords,  to  give  utterance  to  one  word  against  the  verdict  which  has 
been  pronounced  upon  me.  But  fully  conscious  of  my  honor  as  a 
man,  which  has  never  been  impugned,  fully  conscious  that  I  can  go 
into  my  grave  with  a  name  and  character  unsullied,  I  can  only  say 
that  these  parties,  actuated  by  a  desire,  either  of  their  aggrandizement, 
or  to  save  their  paltry,  miserable  lives,  have  pandered  to  the  appetite,  if 
I  may  so  speak,  of  justice,  and  my  life  shall  pay  the  forfeit.  Fully  con- 
vinced and  satisfied  of  the  righteousness  of  my  every  act  in  connection 
with  the  late  revolutionary  movement  in  Ireland,  I  have  nothing  to  re- 
call— nothing  that  1  would  not  do  again,  nothing  for  which  I  should  feel 
the  blush  of  shame  mantling  my  brow;  my  conduct  and  career,  both 
here  as  a  private  citizen,  and  in  America — if  you  like — as  a  soldier, 
are  before  you  ;  and  even  in  this,  my  hour  of  trial,  I  feel  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  lived  an  honest  man,  and  I  will  die  proudly,  believing 
that  if  I  have  given  my  life  to  give  liberty  and  freedom  to  the  land  of 
my  birth,  I  have  done  only  that  which  every  Irishman  and  every  man 
whose  soul  throbs  with  a  feeling  of  liberty  should  do.  I,  my  lords, 
shall  scarcely — I  feel  I  should  not  at  all — mention  the  name  of 
Massey.  I  feel  I  should  not  pollute  my  lips  with  the  name  of  that 
traitor,  whose  illegitimacy  has  been  proven  here — a  man  whose  name 
even  is  not  known,  and  who  I  deny,  point  blank,  ever  wore  the  star  of  a 
colonel  in  the  Confederate  army.  Him  I  shall  let  rest.  I  shall  pass 
him,  wishing  him,  in  the  words  of  the  poet  : — 

**  *  May  the  grass  wither  from  his  feet; 

The  woods  deny  him  shelter;  earth  a  home; 
The  dust  a  grave;  the  sun  his  light; 
And  heaven  its  God!' 

Let  Massey  remember  from  this  day  forth  that  he  carries  w^ith  him,  as 
my  able  and  eloquent  counsel  (Mr.  Dowse)  has  stated,  a  serpent  that 
will  gnaw  his  conscience,  will  carry  about  him  in  his  breast  a  living 
hell  from  which  he  can  never  be  separated.  I,  my  lords,  have  no  de- 
sire for  the  name  of  a  martyr;  I  seek  not  the  death  of  a  martyr;  but 
if  it  is  the  will  of  the  Almighty  and  Omnipotent  God  that  my  devotion 


SJ'EECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


189 


for  the  land  of  my  birth  shall  be  tested  on  the  scaffold,  I  am  willing  there 
to  die  in  defence  of  the  right  of  men  to  free  government — the  right  of 
an  oppressed  people  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  thraldom.  I  am  an  Irish- 
man by  birth,  an  American  by  adoption  ;  by  nature  a  lover  of  freedom 
— an  enemy  to  the  power  that  holds  my  native  land  in  the  bonds  of 
tyranny.  It  has  so  often  been  admitted  that  the  oppressed  have  a 
right  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  oppression,  even  by  English  statesmen, 
that  I  do  not  deem  it  necessary  to  advert  to  the  fact  in  a  British  court 
of  justice.  Ireland's  -  hildren  are  not,  never  were,  and  never  will  be, 
willing  or  submissive  slaves;  and  so  long  as  England's  flag  covers  one 
inch  of  Irish  soil,  just  so  long  will  they  believe  it  to  be  a  divine  right 
to  conspire,  imagine,  and  devise  means  to  hurl  it  from  power,  and  to 
erect  in  its  stead  the  God-like  structure  of  self-government.  I  shall 
now,  my  lords,  before  I  go  any  further,  perform  one  important  duty 
to  my  learned,  talented,  and  eloquent  counsel.  I  offer  them  that  which 
is  poor  enough,  the  thanks,  the  sincere  and  heartfelt  thanks  of  an  hon- 
est man.  I  offer  them,  too,  in  the  name  of  America,  the  thanks  of  the 
Irish  people.  I  know  that  I  am  here  without  a  relative — without  a 
friend — in  fact,  3,000  miles  away  from  my  family.  But  I  know  that  I 
am  not  forgotten  there.  The  great  and  generous  Irish  heart  of  Amer- 
ica to-day  feels  for  me — to-day  sympathizes  with  and  does  not  forget 
the  man  who  is  willing  to  tread  the  scaffold — aye,  defiantly — proudly, 
conscious  of  no  wrong — in  defence  of  American  principles — in  de- 
fence of  liberty.  To  Messrs.  Butt,  Dowse,  O'Loghlen,  and  all  the 
counsel  for  the  prisoners,  for  some  of  whom  I  believe  Mr.  Curran 
will  appear,  and  my  very  able  solicitor,  Mr.  Lawless,  I  return  indi- 
vidually and  collectively,  my  sincere  and  heartfelt  thanks. 

"I  shall  now,  my  lords,  as  no  doubt  you  will  suggest  to  me,  think 
of  the  propriety  of  turning  my  attention  to  the  world  beyond  the 
grave.  I  shall  now  look  only  to  that  home  where  sorrows  are  at  an 
end,  where  joy  is  eternal.  I  shall  hope  and  pray  that  freedom  may 
yet  dawn  on  this  poor,  down-trodden  country.  It  is  my  hope,  it  is  my 
prayer,  and  the  last  words  that  I  shall  utter  will  be  a  prayer  to  God 
for  forgiveness,  and  a  prayer  for  poor  old  Ireland.  Now,  my  lords, 
in  relation  to  the  other  man,  Corridon,  I  will  make  a  few  remarks. 
Perhaps  before  I  go  to  Corridon,  I  should  say  much  has  been  spoken 
on  thnt  table  of  Colonel  Kelly,  and  of  the  meetings  held  at  bis  lodgings 
m  London.  I  desire  to  state,  I  never  knew  where  Colonel  Kelly's 
lod.^ings  were.  I  never  knew  where  he  lived  in  London,  till  I  heard 
the  informer,  Massey,  announce  it  on  the  table.  I  never  attended  a 
meeting  at  Colonel  Kelly's;  and  the  hundred  other  statements  that 
have  been  made  about  him,  I  now  solemnly  declare  on  my  honor  as 
a  man — as  a  dying  man,  these  statements  have  been  totally  unfounded 
and  false  from  beginning  to  end.  In  relation  to  the  small  paper  that 
Was  introduced  here,  and  brought  against  me  as  evidence,  as  having 
been  found  on  my  person  in  connection  with  that  oath,  I  desire  to 


i^o 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCJT. 


say  that  that  paper  was  not  found  on  my  person.  I  knew  no  person 
whose  name  was  on  that  paper.  O'Beirne,  of  Dublin,  or  those  other 
delegates  you  heard  of,  I  never  saw  or  met.  That  paper  has  been  put 
in  there  for  some  purpose.  I  can  swear  positively  it  is  not  in  my 
handwriting.  I  can  also  swear  I  never  saw  it;  yet  it  is  used  as  evi- 
dence against  me.  Is  this  justice?  Is  this  right?  Is  it  manly?  I  am 
willing  if  I  have  transgressed  the  laws  to  suffer  the  penalty,  but  I  object 
to  thii  system  of  trumping  up  a  case  to  take  away  the  life  of  a  human 
being.  True,  I  ask  for  no  mercy.  I  feel  that,  with  my  present  ema- 
ciated frame,  and  somewhat  shattered  constitution,  it  is  better  that  my 
life  should  be  brought  to  an  end  than  that  I  should  drag  out  a  misera- 
ble existence  in  the  prison  dens  of  Portland.  Thus  it  is,  my  lords,  I 
accept  the  verdict.  Of  course  my  acceptance  of  it  is  unnecessary,  but 
I  am  satisfied  with  it.  And  now  I  shall  close.  True  it  is,  there  are 
many  feelings  that  actuate  me  at  this  moment.  In  fact,  these  few  dis- 
connected remarks  can  give  no  idea  of  what  I  desire  to  state  to  the 
court.  I  have  ties  to  bind  me  to  life  and  society  as  strong  as  any 
man  in  this  court  can  have.  I  have  a  family  I  love  as  much  as  any 
man  in  this  court  loves  his  family.  But  I  can  remember  the  blessing 
I  received  from  an  aged  mother's  lips  as  I  left  her  the  last  time.  She, 
speaking  as  the  Spartan  mother  did,  said — '  Go,  my  boy,  return  either 
with  your  shield,  or  upon  it.'  This  reconciles  me — this  gives  me 
heart.  I  submit  to  my  doom;  and  I  hope  that  God  will  forgive  me 
my  past  sins.  I  hope  also,  that  inasmuch  as  He  has  for  seven  hun- 
dred years  preserved  Ireland,  notwithstanding  all  the  tyranny  to  which 
she  has  been  subjected,  as  a  separate  and  distinct  nationality.  He  will 
also  assist  her  to  retrieve  her  fallen  fortunes — to  rise  in  her  beauty  and 
majesty,  the  sister  of  Columbia,  the  peer  of  any  nation  in  the  world." 

General  Burke,  as  our  readers  are  well  aware,  was  not  exe- 
cuted. The  government  shrank  from  carrying  out  the  barbar- 
ous sentence  of  the  law,  and  his  punishment  was  changed  to 
the  still  more  painful,  if  less  appalling  fate,  of  penal  servitude 
for  life.  Of  General  Burke*s  private  character  we  have  said 
little ;  but  our  readers  will  be  able  to  understand  it  from  the 
subjoined  brief  extracts  from  two  of  his  letters.  On  the  very 
night  previous  to  his  trial  he  wrote  to  his  mother  from  Kil- 
mainham  prison : — 

"  *  *  *  Qjj  1^5^  Easter  Sunday  I  partook  of  Holy  Communion 
at  a  late  Mass.  I  calculated  the  difference  of  time  between  this  longi- 
tude and  yours,  for  I  knew  that  you  and  my  dear  sisters  were  partak- 
ing of  the  Sacrament  at  early  Mass  on  that  day,  as  was  your  wont,  and 
I  felt  that  our  souls  were  in  communion  together." 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


191 


We  conclude  with  the  following  letter  from  General  Burke, 
which  has  never  before  been  published,  and  which  we  are  sure 
will  be  of  deep  interest  to  our  readers.  It  is  addressed  to  the 
reverend  gentleman  who  had  been  his  father-confessor  in 
Clonmel: — 

*'  KiLMAlNHAM  Gaol,  4th,  Month  of  Mary. 

"Dear  Rev.  Father, —  *  *  *  I  am  perfectly  calm  and  re- 
signed, with  my  thoughts  firmly  centered  with  hope  in  the  goodness 
and  mercy  of  that  kind  Redeemer,  whose  precious  blood  was  shed  for 
my  salvation  ;  as  also  in  the  mediation  and  intercession  of  His  Blessed 
Mother,  who  is  my  Star  of  Hope  and  Consolation.  I  know,  dear 
father,  I  need  not  ask  you  to  be  remembered  in  your  prayers,  for  I 
feel  that  in  your  supplication  to  the  Throne  of  Mercy  I  have  not  been 
forgotten.  *  *  *  j  have  only  one  thought  which  causes  me  much 
sorrow,  and  that  is  that  my  good  and  loving  mother  will  break  down 
under  the  weight  of  her  affliction,  and,  oh,  God,  I  who  loved  her  more 
than  the  life  which  animates  the  hand  that  writes,  to  be  the  cause  of 
it !  This  thought  unmans  and  prostrates  me.  I  wrote  to  her  at  the 
beginning  of  my  trial,  and  told  her  how  I  thought  it  would  terminate, 
and  spoke  along  and  last  farewell.  I  have  not  written  since  ;  it  would 
break  my  heart  to  attempt  it ;  but  I  would  ask  you,  as  an  especial  fa- 
vor, that  you  would  write  to  her  and  tell  her  I  am  happy  and  reconciled 
to  the  will  of  God,  who  has  given  me  this  opportunity  of  saving  my 
immortal  soul.     I  hope  to  hear  from  you  before  I  leave  this  world. 

"Good-bye,  father,  and  that  God  may  bless  you  in  your  ministry, 
is  the  prayer  of  an  obedient  child  of  the  Church. 

"Thomas  F.  Burke." 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  M'AFFERTY. 

40T  is  not  Irish-born  men  alone  whose  souls  are  filled 
with  a  chivalrous  love  for  Ireland,  and  a  stern  hatred 
of  her  oppressor.  There  are  amongst  the  ranks  of  her 
patriots  none  more  generous,  more  resolute,  or  more 
active  in  her  cause  than  the  children  born  of  Irish 
parents  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  In  London, 
Liverpool,  Manchester,  Birmingham,  Glasgow,  and  all  the  large 
towns  of   Great    Britain,  throughout  the  United   States,  and 


JQ2  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

in  the   British   colonies,  many  of  the  best  known  and  most 
thorough-going  "  Irishmen"  are  men  whose  place  of  birth  was 
not  beneath  the  Irish  skies,  and  amongst  them  are  some  who 
never  saw  the  shores  of  the  Green  Isle.     One  of  these  men  was 
Captain  John  M'Afferty.     He  was  born  of  Irish  parents,  in  the 
State  of  Ohio,  in  the  year  1838,  and  at  their  knees  he  heard  of 
the  rights  and  wrongs  of  Ireland,  learning  to  sympathize  with 
the  sufferings  of  that  country,  and  to  regard  the  achievement 
of  its  freedom  as  a  task  in  which  he  was  bound  to  bear  a  part. 
He  grew  up  to  be  a  man  of  adventurous  and  daring  habits, 
better  fitted  for  the  camp  than  for  the  ordinary  ways  of  peace- 
ful life;  and  when  the  civil  war  broke  out  he  soon  found  his 
place  in    one  of   those    regiments  of    the   Confederacy  whose 
special  duty  lay  in  the  accomplishment  of  the  most  hazardous 
enterprises.     He  belonged  to  the  celebrated  troop  of  Morgan's 
Guerillas,   whose  dashing   feats   of  valor    so    often    filled    the 
Federal   forces  with  astonishment   and    alarm.     In   the   latter 
part  of  1865  he  crossed  over  to  this  country  to  assist  in  leading 
the  insurrection  which  was  then  being  prepared  by  the  Fenian 
organization.     He   was    arrested,    as    already   stated    in    these 
pages,  on  board  the  steamer  at  Queenstown,  before  he  had  set 
foot  on  Irish  soil ;  when  brought  to  trial  at  Cork,  in  the  month 
of  December,  the  lawyers  discovered   that,  being  an  alien,  and 
having  committed  no  overt  act  of  treason  within  the  Queen's 
dominions,  there  was  no  case  against  him,  and  he  was  conse- 
quently discharged.     He  then  went  back  to  America,  took  an 
active  part  in  some  Fenian  meetings,  made  a  speech  at  one  of 
them,  which  was  held  at  Jones'  Wood,  and  when  the  report  of 
the  proceedings  appeared   in  print,  he,  with  a   sense  of  grim 
humor,  posted  a  copy  containing  his  oration  to  the  governor 
of  Mountjoy  prison,  Dublin.     In  the  latter  part  of  1866,  when 
James  Stephens  was  promising  to  bring  off  immediately  the 
long-threatened    insurrection,     M'Afferty    again    crossed    the 
ocean,  and  landed  in  England.     There  he  was  mainly  instru- 
mental in  planning  and  organizing  that  extraordinary  move- 
ment,  the  raid  on  Chester,  which  took  place  on  Monday,  nth 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


193 


of  February,  1867.     It  is  now  confessed,  even  by  the  British 

authorities  themselves,  that,  but  for  the  timely  intimation  of 
the  design  given  by  the  informer  Corridon,  M'Afferty  and  his 
party  would  probably  have  succeeded  in  capturing  the  old 
Castle,  and  seizing  the  large  store  of  arms  therein  contained. 
Finding  their  movements  anticipated,  the  Fenian  party  left 
Chester  as  quietly  as  they  had  come,  and  the  next  that  was 
heard  of  M'Afferty  was  his  arrest,  and  that  of  his  friend  and 
companion,  John  Flood,  on  the  23d  of  February,  in  the  harbor 
of  Dublin,  after  they  had  got  into  a  small  boat  from  out  of  the 
collier  ''  New  Draper,"  which  had  just  arrived  from  White- 
haven. M'Afferty  was  placed  in  the  dock  of  Green  Street 
court-house  for  trial,  on  Wednesday,  May  1st,  while  the  jury 
were  absent  considering  their  verdict  in  the  case  of  Burke  and 
Doran.  On  Monday,  May  6th,  he  was  declared  guilty  by 
the  jury.  On  that  day  week  a  Court  of  Appeal,  consisting  of 
ten  of  the  Irish  judges,  sat  to  consider  some  legal  points  raised 
by  Mr.  Butt  in  course  of  the  trial,  the  most  important  of  which 
was  the  question  whether  the  prisoner,  who  had  been  in  cus- 
tody since  February  23d,  could  be  held  legally  responsible  for 
the  events  of  the  Fenian  rising  which  occurred  on  the  night 
of  the  5th  of  March.  Their  lordships  gave  an  almost  unani- 
mous judgment  against  the  prisoner,  on  Saturday,  May  i8th, 
and  on  the  Monday  following  he  was  brought  up  for  sentence, 
on  which  occasion,  in  response  to  the  usual  question,  he  spoke 
as  follows : — 

"  My  Lords, — I  have  nothing  to  say  that  can,  at  this  advanced 
stage  of  the  trial,  ward  off  that  sentence  of  death,  for  I  might  as  well 
hurl  my  complaint  (if  I  had  one)  at  the  orange  trees  of  the  sunny 
south,  or  the  tall  pine  trees  of  the  bleak  north,  as  now  to  speak  to  the 
question  why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed  upon  me  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  the  land  ;  but  I  do  protest  loudly  against  the  injus- 
tice of  that  sentence.  I  have  been  brought  to  trial  upon  a  charge  of 
high  treason  against  the  government  of  Great  Britain,  and  guilt  has 
been  brought  home  to  me  upon  the  evidence  of  one  witness,  and  that 
witness  a  perjured  informer.  I  deny  distinctly  that  there  have  been 
two  witnesses  to  prove  the  overt  act  of  treason  against  me.  1  deny 
distinctly  that  you  have  brought  two  independent  witnesses  to  two 


194 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


overt  acts  There  is  but  one  witness  to  prove  the  overt  act  of  treas(,»fi 
against  me.  I  grant  that  there  has  been  a  cloud  of  circumstantial 
evidence  to  show  my  connection  (if  I  may  please  to  use  that  word) 
with  the  Irish  people  in  their  attempt  for  Irish  independence,  and  I 
claim  that  as  an  American,  and  an  alien,  I  have  a  reason  and  a  right 
to  sympathize  with  the  Irish  people  or  any  other  people  who  may 
please  to  revolt  against  the  form  of  government  by  which  they  believe 
they  are  governed  tyrannically.  England  sympathized  with  America, 
She  not  only  sympathized,  but  she  gave  her  support  to  both  parties  ; 
but  who  ever -heard  of  an  Englishman  having  been  arrested  by  the 
United  States  government  for  having  given  his  support  to  the  Con- 
federate States  of  America,  and  placed  on  his  trial  for  high  treason 
against  the  government  ?  No  such  case  ever  has  been.  I  do  not 
deny  that  I  have  sympathized  with  the  Irish  people — I  love  Ireland — 
I  love  the  Irish  people.  And,  if  I  were  free  to-morrow,  and  the  Irish 
people  were  to  take  the  field  for  independence,  my  sympathy  would 
be  with  them  ;  I  would  join  them  if  they  had  any  prospect  whatever 
of  independence,  but  I  would  not  give  my  sanction  to  the  useless  effu- 
sion of  blood,  however  done  ;  and  I  state  distinctly  that  I  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do,  directly  or  indirectly,  with  the  movement  that  took 
place  in  the  county  of  Dublin.  I  make  that  statement  on  the  brink 
of  my  grave.  Again,  I  claim  that  I  have  a  right  to  be  discharged  of 
the  charge  against  me  by  the  language  of  the  law  by  which  I  have 
been  tried.  That  law  states  that  you  must  have  two  independent 
witnesses  to  prove  the  overt  act  against  the  prisoner.  That  is  the  only 
complaint  I  have  to  make,  and  I  make  that  aloud.  I  find  ho  fault  with 
the  jury,  no  complaint  against  the  judges.  I  have  been  tried  and 
found  guilty.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  I  v/ill  go  to  my  grave.  I 
will  go  to  my  grave  like  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian,  although  I  re- 
gret that  I  should  be  cut  off  at  this  stage  of  my  life — still  many  a 
noble  Irishman  fell  in  defence  of  the  rights  of  my  southern  clime.  I 
do  not  wish  to  make  any  flo\Yery  speech  to  win  sympathy  in  the  court 
of  justice.  Without  any  further  remarks  I  will  now  accept  the  sen- 
tence of  the  court." 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  then,  in  the  ''solemn  tone  of  voice" 
adopted  on  such  occasions,  proceeded  to  pass  sentence  in  the 
usual  form,  fixing  the  I2th  day  of  June  as  the  date  on  which 
the  execution  should  take  place. 

The  prisoner  heard  the  sentence  without  giving  the  slightest 
symptoms  of  emotion,  and  then  spoke  as  follov\'s : — 

**  I  will  accept  my  sentence  as  becomes  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian. 
I  have  but  one  request  to  ask  of  the  tribunal,  and  that  is,  that  after 
the  execution  of  the  sentence  my  remains  shall  be  turned  over  to  Mro 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


195 


Lawless,  to  be  by  him  interred  in  consecrated  ground  as  quietly  as  he 
possibly  can.  I  have  now,  previous  to  leaving  the  dock,  once  more 
to  return  my  grateful  and  sincere  thanks  to  Mr.  Butt,  the  star  of  the 
Irish  bar,  for  his  able  and  devoted  defence  on  behalf  of  me  and  my 
friends.  Mr.  Butt,  I  thank  you.  I  also  return  the  same  token  of 
esteem  to  Mr.  Dowse,  for  the  kind  and  feeling  manner  in  which  he 
alluded  to  the  scenes  in  my  former  life.  Those  kind  allusions  re- 
call to  my  min^  many  moments — some  brip;ht,  beautiful,  and  glorious 
— and  yet  some  sad  recollections  arise,  of  generous  hopes  that  floated 
o'er  me,  and  now  sink  beyond  the  grave.  Mr.  Butt,  please  convey  to 
Mr.  Dowse  my  grateful  and  sincere  thanks.  Mr.  Lawless,  I  also 
return  you  my  thanks  for  your  many  acts  of  kindness — I  can  do  no 
more." 

He  w^as  not  executed,  however.  The  commutation  of 
Burke's  sentence  necessitated  the  like  course  in  all  the  other 
capital  cases,  and  M'Afferty's  doom  was  changed  to  penal  ser- 
vitude for  life. 


EDWARD  DUFFY. 


N  the  day  following  that  on  which  M'AfYerty's  sen. 
tence  was  pronounced,  the  trial  of  three  men,  named 
John  Flood,  Edward  Duffy,  and  John  Cody,  was 
brought  to  a  conclusion.  When  they  were  asked 
what  they  had  to  say  why  sentence  should  not  be 
passed  on  them,  Cody  denied  with  all  possible  earnestness  the 
charge  of  being  president  of  an  assassination  committee,  which 
had  been  brought  against  him.  Flood — a  young  man  of  re- 
markably handsome  exterior — declared  that  the  evidence 
adduced  against  himself  was  untrue  in  many  particulars.  He 
alluded  to  the  Attorney-General's  having  spoken  of  him  as  "  that 
wretched  man.  Flood."  "My  lords,"  said  he,  "if  to  love  my 
country  more  than  my  life  makes  me  a  wretched  man,  then  I 
am  a  very  wretched  man  indeed."  Edward  Duffy,  it  might  be 
supposed  by  any  one  looking  at  his  emaciated  frame,  wasted 
by  consumption,  and  with  the  seal  of  death  plainly  set  on  his 


\g6 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 


brow,  would  not  be  able  to  offer  any  remarks  to  the  court ;  but 
he  roused  himself  to  the  effort.  The  noble-hearted  young  feU 
low  had  been  previously  in  the  clutches  of  the  government  for 
the  same  offence.  He  was  arrested  with  James  Stephens  and 
others  at  Fairfield  House,  in  November,  1865,  but  after  a  brief 
imprisonment  was  released  in  consideration  of  the  state  of  his 
health,  which  seemed  such  as  would  not  leave  him  many  days 
to  live.  But,  few  or  many,  Duffy  could  not  do  otherwise  than 
devote  them  to  the  cause  he  had  at  heart.  He  was  re-arrested 
at  Boyle,  on  the  nth  of  March,  and  this  time  the  government 
took  care  they  would  not  quit  their  hold  of  him.  The  follow- 
ing is  the  speech  which,  by  a  great  physical  effort,  he  delivered 
from  the  dock,  his  dark  eyes  brightening,  and  his  pallid  fea- 
tures lighting  up  with  the  glow  of  an  earnest  and  lofty  enthusi- 
asm while  he  spoke  : — 

"  The  Attorney-General  has  made  a  wanton  attack  on  me,  but  I 
leave  my  countrymen  to  judge  between  us.  There  is  no  political  act 
of  mine  that  I  in  the  least  regret.  I  have  labored  earnestly  and  sin- 
cerely in  my  country's  cause,  and  I  have  been  actuated  throughout  by 
a  strong  sense  of  duty.  I  believe  that  a  man's  duty  to  his  country  is 
a  part  of  his  duty  to  God;  for  it  is  He  who  implants  the  feeling  of 
patriotism  in  the  human  breast.  He,  the  great  Searcher  ot  hearts,  knows 
that  I  have  been  actuated  by  no  mean  or  paltry  ambition — that  I  have 
never  worked  for  any  selfish  end.  For  the  late  outbreak  I  am  not 
responsible  ;  I  did  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  it,  for  I  knew  that,  cir- 
cumstanced as  we  then  were,  it  would  be  a  failure.  It  has  been  stated 
in  the  course  of  these  trials  that  Stephens  was  for  peace.  This  is  a 
mistake.  It  may  be  well  that  it  should  not  go  uncontradicted.  It  is 
but  too  well  known  in  Ireland  that  he  sent  numbers  of  men  over  here 
to  fight,  promising  to  be  with  them  when  the  time  would  come.  The 
time  did  come,  but  not  Mr.  Stephens.  He  remained  in  France  to 
visit  the  Paris  Exhibition.  It  may  be  a  very  pleasant  sight,  but  I 
would  not  be  in  his  place  now.  He  is  a  lost  man — lost  to  honor,  lost 
to  country.  There  are  a  few  things  I  would  wish  to  say,  relative  to 
evidence  given  against  me  at  my  trial,  but  I  would  ask  your  lordships 
to  give  me  permission  to  say  them  after  sentence.  I  have  a  reason  for 
asking  to  be  allowed  to  say  them  after  sentence  has  been  passed." 

The  Chief-Justice — "  That  is  not  the  usual  practice.  Not  being 
tried  for  life,  it  is  doubtful  to  me  whether  you  have  a  right  to  speak  at 
all.  What  you  are  asked  to  say  is  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed 
upon  you,  and  whatever  you  have  to  say,  you  must  say  now." 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


197 


*'  Then,  if  I  must  say  it  now,  I  declare  it  before  my  God,  that  what 
telly  swore  against  me  on  the  table  is  not  true.  I  saw  him  in  En- 
nisgroven,  but  that  I  ever  spoke  to  him  on  any  political  subject  I  de- 
clare to  heaven  I  never  did.  I  knew  him  from  a  child  in  that  little 
town,  herding  with  the  lowest  and  vilest.  Is  it  to  be  supposed  I'd  put 
my  liberty  into  the  hands  of  such  a  character  ?  I  never  did  it.  The 
next  witness  is  Corridon.  He  swore  that  at  the  meeting  he  referred 
to,  I  gave  him  directions  to  go  to  Kerry,  to  find  O'Connor,  and  put 
himself  in  communication  with  him.  I  declare  to  my  God,  every  word 
of  that  is  false.  Whether  O'Connor  was  in  the  country,  or  whether  he 
had  made  his  escape,  I  know  just  as  little  as  your  lordships  ;  and  I 
never  heard  of  the  Kerry  rising  until  I  saw  it  in  the  public  papers. 
As  to  my  giving  the  American  officers  money  that  night,  before  my 
God,  on  the  verge  of  my  grave,  where  my  sentence  will  send  me,  I  say 
that  also  is  false.  As  to  the  writing  that  the  policeman  swore  to  in  that 
book,  and  which  is  not  a  prayer-book,  but  the  '  Imitation  of  Christ,' 
given  to  me  by  a  lady  to  v;hom  I  served  my  time,  what  was  written  in 
that  book  was  written  by  another  young  man  in  her  employment. 
That  is  his  writing,  not  mine.  It  is  the  writing  of  a  young  man  in  the 
house,  and  I  never  wrote  a  line  of  it." 

The  Lord  Chief- Justice — "It  was  not  sworn  to  be  in  your  hand- 
writing." 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  it  was.  The  policeman  swore  it  was  in  my  hand- 
writing." 

The  Lord  Chief-Justice — "  That  is  a  mistake.  It  was  said  to  be 
like  yours." 

"  The  dream  of  my  life  has  been  that  I  might  be  fighting  for  Ireland. 
The  jury  have  doomed  me  to  a  more  painful,  but  not  less  glorious 
death.  I  now  bid  farewell  to  my  friends,  and  all  who  are  dear  to 
me. 

'  *  There  is  a  world  where  souls  are  free. 

Where  tyrants  taint  not  nature's  bliss  : 
If  death  that  bright  world's  opening  be, 
Oh,  who  would  live  a  slave  in  this.' 

"  I  am  proud  to  be  thought  worthy  of  suffering  for  my  country  ;  when 
I  am  lying  in  my  lonely  cell  I  will  not  forget  Ireland,  and  my  last 
prayer  will  be  that  the  God  of  liberty  may  give  her  strength  to  shake 
off  her  chains." 

John  Flood  and  Edward  Duffy  were  then  sentenced,  each  to 
fifteen  years  of  penal  servitude,  and  Cody  to  penal  servitude 
for  life. 

Edward  Duffy's  term  of  suffering  did  not  last  long.  A  mer- 
ciful Providence  gave  his  noble  spirit  release  from  its  earthly 


198 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


tenement  before  one  year  from  the  date  of  his  sentence  had 
passed  away.  On  the  21st  of  May,  1867,  his  trial  concluded; 
on  the  17th  of  January,  1868,  the  patriot  lay  dead  in  his  cell,  in 
Millbank  prison,  London.  The  government  permitted  his 
friends  to  remove  his  remain^  to  Ireland  for  interment ;  and 
they  now  rest  in  Glasnevin  Cemetery,  Dublin,  where  friendly 
hands  oft  renew  the  flowers  on  his  grave,  and  many  a  heartfelt 
prayer  is  uttered  that  God  would  give  the  patriot's  soul  eternal 
rest,  and  "let  perpetual  light  shine  unto  him." 


STEPHEN  JOSEPH  MEANY. 

HE  connection  of  Stephen  Joseph  Meany  with  Irish 
politics  dates  back  to  1848,  when  he  underwent  an 
imprisonment  of  some  months  in  Carrickfergus  Cas- 
tle, under  the  provisions  of  the  habeas  corpus  sus- 
pension act.  He  had  been  a  writer  on  one  of  the  na- 
tional newspapers  of  that  period,  and  was  previously 
a  reporter  for  a  Dublin  daily  paper.  He  joined  the  Fenian 
movement  in  America,  and  was  one  of  the  "  Senators"  in 
O'Mahony's  organization.  In  December,  1866,  he  crossed 
over  to  England,  and  in  the  following  month  he  was  arrested 
in  London,  and  was  brought  in  custody  across  to  Ireland.  His 
trial  took  place  in  Dublin,  on  the  i6th  of  February,  1867,  when 
the  legality  of  the  mode  of  his  arrest  was  denied  by  his  coun- 
sel, and  as  it  was  a  very  doubtful  question,  the  point  was  re- 
served to  be  considered  by  a  Court  of  Appeal.  This  trib- 
unal sat  on  May  13th,  1867,  and  on  May  i8th  their  deci- 
sion confirming  the  conviction  was  pronounced.  It  was  not 
until  the  21st  of  the  following  month,  at  the  Commission  of 
Oyer  and  Terminer,  that  he  was  brought  up  for  sentence.  He 
then  delivered  the  following  able  address,  to  show  ''why  sen* 
tence  should  not  be  passed  on  him": — 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 


I9(. 


**  My  Lords, — There  are  many  reasons  I  could  offer  why  sentence 
should  not — could  not — be  pronounced  upon  me  according  to  law, 
if  seven  months  of  absolute  solitary  imprisonment,  and  the  almost  to- 
tal disuse  of  speech  during  that  period,  had  left  me  energy  enough, 
or  even  language  sufficient  to  address  the  court.  But  yielding  obedi- 
ence to  a  suggestion  coming  from  a  quarter  which  I  am  bound  to  re- 
spect, as  well,  indeed,  as  in  accordance  with  my  own  feelings,  I  avoid 
everything  like  speech-making  for  outside  effect.  Besides,  the  learned 
counsel,  who  so  ably  represented  me  in  the  Court  of  Appeal,  and  the 
eminent  judges  who  in  that  court  gave  judgment  for  me,  have  exhaust- 
ed all  that  could  be  said  on  the  law  of  the  case.  Of  their  arguments 
and  opinions  your  lordships  have  judicial  knowledge.  I  need  not  say 
that  both  in  interest  as  in  conviction  I  am  in  agreement  with  the  con- 
stitutional principles  laid  down  by  the  minority  of  the  judges  in  that 
court,  and  I  have  sufficient  respect  for  the  dignity  of  the  court — suf- 
ficient regard  to  what  is  due  to  myself  to  concede  fully  and  frankly  to 
the  majority  a  conscientious  view  of  a  novel,  and,  it  may  be,  a  difficult 
question. 

"  But  I  do  not  ask  too  much  in  asking  that  before  your  lordships 
proceed  to  pass  any  sentence,  you  will  consider  the  manner  in  which 
the  court  was  divided  on  that  question — to  bear  in  mind  that  the  min- 
ority declaring  against  the  legality  and  validity  of  the  conviction  was 
composed  of  some  of  the  ablest  and  most  experienced  judges  of  the 
Irish  bench,  or  any  bench — to  bear  in  mind  that  one  of  these  learned 
judges  who  had  presided  at  the  Commission  Court  was  one  of  the 
most  emphatic  in  the  Court  of  Criminal  Appeal  in  declaring  against 
my  liability  to  be  tried;  and  moreover — and  he  ought  to  know — that 
there  was  not  a  particle  of  evidence  to  sustain  the  cause  set  up  at  the 
last  moment,  and  relied  upon  by  the  crown,  that  I  was  an  *  accessory 
before  the  fact'  to  that  famous  Dublin  overt  act,  for  which,  as  an 
afterthought  of  the  crown,  I  was,  in  fact,  tried.  And  I  ask  you  further 
to  bear  in  mind  that  the  affirmance  of  the  conviction  was  not  had  on 
fixed  principles  of  law — for  the  question  was  unprecedented — but  on 
a  speculative  view  of  a  suppositious  case,  and  I  must  say  a  strained 
application  of  an  already  overstrained  and  dangerous  doctrine — the 
doctrine  of  constructive  criminality — the  doctrine  of  making  a  man,  at 
a  distance  of  three  thousand  miles  or  more,  legally  responsible  for  the 
words  and  acts  of  others  whom  he  had  never  seen,  and  of  whom  he 
had  never  heard,  under  the  fiction,  or  the  '  supposition,'  that  he  was  a 
co-conspirator.  The  word  *  supposition'  is  not  mine,  my  lords;  it  is 
the  word  put  forward  descriptive  of  the  point  by  the  learned  judges 
presiding  at  my  trial;  for  I  find  in  the  case  prepared  by  these  judges 
for  the  Court  of  Criminal  Appeal  the  following  paragraph  : — 

**  *  Sufficient  evidence  was  given  on  the  part  of  the  crown,  of  acts  of 
members  of  the  said  association  in  Ireland  not  named  in  the  indict- 
ment m  promotion  of  the  several  objects  aforesaid,  and  done  within 


200  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

the  county  of  the  city  of  Dublin,  to  sustain  some  of  the  overt  act| 
charged  in  the  indictment,  supposing  them  to  be  the  acts  of  the  defen- 
dant himself.' 

''  Fortified  by  such  facts — with  a  court  so   divided,  and  with   opiii' 
ions  so  expressed — I  submit  that,  neither    according  to  act  of  Parlia- 
ment, nor  in  conformity  with  the  practice  at  common  law,  nor  in  any 
way  in  pursuance  of  the  principles  of  that  apocryphal  abstraction,  that 
magnificent  myth — the  British  Constitution — am    I    amenable  to  the 
sentence  of  this  court — or  any  court  in  this  country.     True,  I   am  in 
the  toils,  and  it  may  be  vain  to  discuss  how  I  was  brought  into  them. 
True,  my  long  and    dreary  im])risonment — shut    away  from    all    con- 
verse or  association  with  humanity,  in  a   cell  twelve  feet  by  six — the 
humiliations    of    prison    diicipline — the   hardships    of   prison    fare — 
the  handcuffs,  an  !  the  heartburnin-gs — this  court  and  its  surroundings 
of  power  and  authority — all  these  are  'hard  practical  facts,'  which  no 
amount  oJ  iiidignant    protests    can  negative — no  denunciation    of  the 
wronr;  refine  away;  and  it  may  be,  as  I  have    said,  worse    than  useless 
— vin  and  absurd — to  question  the  right  where  might  is  predominant. 
But   the  invitation  just  extended  to  me  by  the  officer  of  the  court 
mean3,  if  it  means  anything — if  it  be  not  like  the  rest,  a  solemn  mock- 
ery— that   there  still  is  left  to    me  the  poor  privilege  of  complaint. 
An^l  I  do  complain.     I  complain  that  law  and  justice  have  been  alike 
violated  m  my  regard — I  complain    that  the    much-belauded  attribute 
'  British  fair  play'  has  been  for  me  a  nullity — I    complain    that   the 
pleasant  fiction  described  in  the  books  as  'personal  freedom'  has  had 
a  most  unpleasant  illustration  in   my  person — and  I    furthermore,  and 
particularly  complain,  that  by  the  design  and  contrivance  of  what  are 
called  'the  authorities,'  I  have  been  brought   to  this    country,  not  for 
trial,  but  for  condemnation — not  for  justice,  but  for  judgment. 

"  I  will  not  tire  the  patience  of  the  court,  or  exhaust  my  own  strength, 
by  going  over  the  history  of  this  painful  case — the  kidnapping  in  Lon- 
don on  the  mere  belief  of  a  police-constable  that  I  was  a  Fenian  in 
New  York — the  illegal  transportation  to  Ireland — the  commital  for 
trial  on  a  specific  charge,  whilst  a  special  messenger  was  dispatched 
to  New  York  to  hunt  up  informers  to  justify  the  illegality  and 
the  outrage,  and  to  get  a  foundation  for  any  charge.  I  will  not 
dwell  on  the  '  conspicuous  absence'  of  fair  play,  in  the  crown  at 
the  trial  having  closed  their  cases  without  any  reference  to  the 
Dublin  transaction,  but,  as  an  afterthought,  suggested  by  their 
discovered  failure,  giving  in  evidence  the  facts  and  circumstances  of 
that  case,  and  thus  succeeding  in  making  the  jury  convict  me  for  an 
offense  for  which,  up  to  that  moment,  the  crown  C^  n  t  intend  to 
charge  me.  I  will  not  say  what  I  think  of  the  uiocliery  of  pr.tting  me 
on  trial  in  the  Commission  Court  in  Dublin  for  all^gj'.  words  and  acts 
in  New  York,  and  though  the  evidenj  '  '\/as  without  :\ctice,  and  the 
alleged  overt   acts  without   date,  taunting  me  with  no.   proving   au 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK,  201 

alibi^  and  sending  that  important  ingredient  to  a  jury  already  ripe  for 
a  conviction.  Prove  an  alibi  to-day  in  respect  of  meetings  held  in 
Clinton  Hall,  New  York,  the  allegations  relating  to  which  only  came 
to  my  knowledge  yesterday!  I  will  not  refer  with  any  bitter  feeUng  to 
the  fact  that  whilst  the  validity  of  the  conviction  so  obtained  was  still 
pending  in  the  Court  of  Criminal  Appeal,  the  right  honorable  and 
noble  the  Chief-Secretary  for  Ireland,  declared  in  the  House  of 
Commons  that  'that  conviction  was  the  most  important  one  at  the 
Commission' — thus  prejudicing  my  case,  I  will  not  say  willingly  ;  but 
the  observation  was,  at  least,  inopportune,  and  for  me  unfortunate. 

"  I  will  not  speak  my  feeling  on  the  fact  that  in  the  arguments  in 
the  case  in  the  court  for  reserved  cases,  the  right  honorable  the 
Attorney-General  appealed  to  the  passions — if  such  can  exist  in  judges 
— and  not  to  the  judgment  of  the  court,  for  I  gather  from  the 
judgment  of  Mr.  Justice  O'Hagan,  that  the  right  honorable  gentle- 
man made  an  earnest  appeal  'that  such  crimes'  as  mine  'should  not 
be  allowed  to  go  unpunished' — forgetful,  I  will  not  say  designedly 
forgetful — that  he  was  addressing  the  judges  of  the  land,  in  the  highest 
court  of  the  land,  on  matters  of  law,  and  not  speaking  to  a  pliant 
Dublin  jury  on  a  treason  trial  in  the  court-house  of  Green  Street. 

"  Before  I  proceed  further,  my  lords,  there  is  a  matter  which,  as 
simply  personal  to  myself,  I  should  not  mind,  but  which,  as  involving 
high  interests  to  the  community,  and  serious  consequences  to  individ- 
uals, demand  a  special  notice.  I  allude  to  the  system  of  manufactur- 
ing informers.  I  want  to  know,  if  the  court  can  inform  me,  by  what 
right  a  responsible  officer  of  the  crown  entered  my  solitary  cell  at 
Kilmainham  prison,  on  Monday  last — unbidden  and  unexpected — 
uninvited  and  undesired.  I  want  to  know  what  justification  there  was 
for  his  coming  to  insult  me  in  my  solitude,  and  in  my  sorrow — osten- 
sibly informing  me  that  I  was  to  be  brought  up  for  sentence  on 
Thursday,  but  in  the  same  breath,  adroitly  putting  to  me  the  ques- 
tion, if  I  knew  any  of  the  men  recently  arrested  near  Dungarvan,  and 
now  in  the  prison  at  Kilmainham.  Coming  thus,  with  a  detective 
dexterity,  carrying  in  one  hand  a  threat  of  sentence  and  punishment— 
in  the  other  as  a  counterpoise,  and,  I  suppose,  an  alternative,  a  tempta- 
tion to  treachery.  Did  he  suppose  that  seven  months  of  imprison- 
ment had  so  broken  my  spirit,  as  well  as  my  health,  that  I  would  be 
an  easy  prey  to  his  blandishments?  Did  he  dream  that  the  prospect 
of  liberty  which  newspaper  rumor  and  semi-official  information  held 
out  to  me  was  too  dear  to  be  forfeited  for  atrfling  forfeiture  of  honor? 
Did  he  believe  that  by  an  act  of  secret  terpitude  I  would  open  my 
prison  doors  only  to  close  them  the  faster  on  others  who  may  or  may 
not  have  been  my  friends — or  did  he  imagine  he  had  found  in  me  a 
Massey,  to  be  moulded  and  manipulated  into  the  service  of  the  crown; 
or  a  Corridon,  to  have  cowardice  and  cupidity  made  the  incentives  to 
his  baseness?     I  only  wonder  how  the  interview  ended  as  it  did ;  but 


202  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

I  knew  I  was  a  prisoner,  and  self-respect  preserved  my  patience  and 
secured  his  safety.  Great,  my  lords,  as  has  been  my  humiliation  in 
prison,  hard  and  heart-breaking  as  have  been  the  ordeals  through 
which  I  have  passed  since  the  ist  of  December  last,  there  was  no  in- 
cident or  event  of  that  period  fraught  with  more  pain  on  the  one 
hand,  or  more  suggestiven?3s  on  the  other,  than  this  sly  and  secret 
attempt  at  improvising  an  informer.  I  can  forget  the  pain  in  view  of 
the  suggestiveness  ;  and  unpleasant  as  is  my  position  here  to  day,  I 
am  almost  glad  of  an  opportunity  which  may  end  in  putting  some 
check  to  the  spy  systems  in  prisons.  How  many  men  have  been  won 
from  honor  and  honesty  by  the  stealthy  visit  to  the  cell,  is  more,  ot 
course,  than  I  can  say — how  many  have  had  their  weakness  acted 
upon,  or  their  weakness  fanned  into  flame  by  such  means,  I  have  no 
opportunity  of  knowing — in  how  many  frailty  and  folly  may  have 
blossomed  into  falsehood  it  is  for  those  concerned  to  estimate.  There 
is  one  thing,  however,  certain — operating  in  this  way  is  more  degrad- 
ing to  the  tempter  than  to  the  tempted  ;  and  the  government  owes  it 
to  itself  to  put  an  end  to  a  course  of  tactics  pursued  in  its  name, 
which  in  the  results  can  only  bring  its  humiliation — the  public  are 
bound  in  self-protection  to  protect  the  prisoner  from  the  prowling 
visits  of  a  too  zealous  official. 

''I  pass  over  all  these  things,  my  lord,  and  I  ask  your  attention  to 
the  character  of  the  evidence  on  which  alone  my  conviction  was  ob- 
tained. The  evidence  of  a  special,  subsidized  spy,  an  infamous  and 
ingrate  informer. 

''  In  all  ages,  and  amongst  all  peoples,  the  spy  has  been  held  in 
marked  abhorrence.  In  the  amncscics  of  war  there  is  for  him  alone 
no  quarter  ;  in  the  estim  ite  of  social  life  no  toleration  ;  his  self-abase- 
ment excites  contempt,  not  compassion  ;  his  patrons  despise  while 
they  encourage  ;  and  they  who  stoop  to  enlist  the  services  shrink  with 
disgust  from  the  moral  leprosy  covering  the  servitor.  Of  such  was 
the  witness  put  forward  to  corroborate  the  informer,  and  still  not  cor- 
roborating him.  Of  such  was  that  phenomenon,  a  police  spy,  who 
declared  himself  an  unwilling  witness  for  the  crown  !  There  was  no 
reason  why,  in  my  regard,  he  should  be  unwilling — he  knew  me  not 
previously.  I  have  no  desire  to  speak  harshly  of  Inspector  Doyle  ; 
he  said  in  presence  of  the  Crown  Solicitor,  and  was  not  contradicted, 
that  he  was  compelled  by  threats  to  ascend  the  witness-table  ;  he  may 
have  cogent  reasons  for  his  reluctance  in  his  conscience.  God  will 
judge  him. 

"  But  how  shall  I  speak  of  the  informer,  Mr.  John  Devany  ?  What 
language  should  be  employed  in  describing  the  character  of  one  who 
adds  to  the  guilt  of  perfidy  to  his  associates  the  crime  of  perjury  to 
his  God  ? — the  man  who,  eating  of  your  bread,  sharing  your  confidence, 
and  holding,  as  it  were,  your  very  purse-strings,  all  the  time  meditates 
your  overthrow,  and  pursues  it  to  its  accomplishment  ?     How  paint 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 


203 


the  wretch  who,  under  pretence  of  agreement  in  your  opinions,  worms 
himself  into  your  secrets,  only  to  betray  them ;  and  who,  upon  the 
same  altar  with  you,  pledges  his  faith  and  fealty  to  the  same  princi- 
ples, and  then  sells  faith,  and  fealty,  and  principles,  and  you  alike,  for 
the  unhallowed  Judas  guerdon  ?  Of  such,  on  his  ovvn  confession,  was 
that  distinguished  upholder  of  the  British  crown  arud  government,  Mr. 
Devany.  With  an  effrontery  that  did  not  falter,  and  knew  not  how  to 
blush,  he  detailed  his  own  participation  in  the  acts  for  which  he  was 
prosecuting  me  as  a  participator.  And  is  the  evidence  of  a  man  like 
that — a  conviction  obtained  upon  such  evidence — any  warrant  for  a 
sentence  depriving  me  of  all  that  make  life  desirable  or  enjoyable  ? 

'*  He  was  first  spy  for  the  crown — in  the  pay  of  the  crown,  under 
the  control  of  the  crown,  and,  think  you,  he  had  any  other  object  than 
to  do  the  behests  of  the  crown  ? 

"  He  was  next  the  traitor  spy,  who  had  taken  that  one  fatal  step, 
from  which  in  this  life  there  is  no  retrogression — that  one  plunge  in 
infamy  from  which  there  is  no  receding — that  one  treachery  for 
which  there  is  no  earthly  forgiveness ;  and,  think  you,  he  hesitated 
about  a  perjury  more  or  less  to  secure  present  pay  and  future  patron- 
age ?  Here  was  one  to  whom  existence  offers  now  no  prospect  save 
in  making  his  perfidy  a  profession,  and,  think  you,  he  was  deterred  by 
conscience  from  recommending  himself  to  his  patrons  ?  Think  you, 
that  when  at  a  distance  of  three  thousand  miles  from  the  scenes  he 
professed  to  describe,  he  could  lie  with  impunity  and  invent  without 
detection,  he  was  particular  to  a  shade  in  doing  his  part  of  a  most 
filthy  bargain  ?  It  is  needless  to  describe  a  wretch  of  that  kind — his 
own  actions  speak  his  character.  It  were  superfluous  to  curse  him, 
his  whole  existence  will  be  a  living,  a  continuing  curse.  No  ne- 
cessity to  use  the  burning  words  of  the  poet  and  say  : — 

"  'May  life's  unblessed  cup  for  him 

Be  drugged  with  treacheries  to  the  brim.* 

Every  sentiment  in  his  regard  of  the  country  he  has  dishonored,  and 
the  people  he  has  humbled,  will  be  one  of  horror  and  hate.  Every 
sigh  sent  up  from  the  hearts  he  has  crushed  and  the  homes  he  has 
made  desolate,  will  be  mingled  with  execration  on  the  name  of  the 
informer.  Every  heart-throb  in  the  prison-cells  of  this  land  where  his 
victims  count  time  by  corroding  his  thought — every  grief  that  finds 
utterance  from  these  victims  in  the  quarries  of  Portland,  will  go  up  to 
heaven  freighted  with  curses  on  the  Nagles,  the  Devanys,  the  Masseys, 
the  Gillespies,  the  Corridons,  and  the  whole  host  of  mercenary  mis- 
creants, who,  faithless  to  their  friends,  and  recreant  to  their  professions, 
have,  paraphrasing  the  words  of  Moore,  taken  their  perfidy  to  heaven, 
seeking  to  make  an  accomplice  of  their  God — wretches  who  have  em- 
balmed their  memories  in  imperishable  infamy,  and  given  their  ac- 


204  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

cursed  names  to  an  inglorious  immortality.  Nor  will  I  speculate  on 
their  career  in  the  future.  We  have  it  on  the  best  existing  authority 
that  a  distingiiished  informer  of  antiquity  seized  with  remorse,  threw 
away  his  blood-money,  'went  forth  and  hanged  himself.'  We  know 
that  in  times  within  the  memory  of  living  men,  a  government  actually 
set  the  edifying  and  praiseworthy  example  of  hanging  an  informer  when 
they  had  no  further  use  of  his  valuable  services — thus  dropping  his 
acquaintance  with  effect.  I  have  no  wish  for  such  a  fate  to  any  of 
the  informers  who  have  cropped  out  so  luxuriantly  in  these  latter 
days — a  long  life  and  a  troubled  conscience  would,  perhaps,  be  their 
correct  punishment — though  certainly  there  would  be  a  consistent 
compensation — a  poetic  justice — in  a  termination  so  exalted  to  a  career 
so  brilliant. 

"  I  leave  these  fellows,  and  turn  for   a  moment  to   their  victims. 
And  I  would  here,  without  any  reference   to  my  own  case,  earnestly 
implore  that  sympathy  with  political  sufferers  should  not  be  merely 
telescopic  in  its  character,  *  distance  lending  enchantment  to  the  view;' 
and  that  when  your  statesmen  sentimentalize  upon,  and  your  journal- 
ists   aenounce   far-away   tyrannies — the  horrors   of  Neapolitan  dun- 
geons— the  abridgment  of  personal  freedom  in  Continental  countries — ■ 
the  exercise  of  arbitrary   power  by  irresponsible   authority  in  other 
lands — they  would  turn  their  eyes  homeward,   and  examine  the  treat- 
ment and  the  sufferings  of  their  own  political  prisoners.     I  would,  in 
all  sincerity,  suggest  that   humane  and   well-meaning  men,  who  exert 
themselves  for  the  remission  of  the  death-penalty   as  a  mercy,  would 
rather  implore  that  the  doom  of  solitary  and  silent  captivity  should  be 
remitted  to  the  more  merciful  doom  of  an- immediate  relief  from  suf- 
fering by  immediate  execution — the  opportunity  of  an  immediate  ap- 
peal from  man's  cruelty  to  God's  justice.     I  speak  strongly  on   this 
point,  because  I  feel  it  deeply.     I  speak  not  without  example.     At  the 
Commission  at  which  I  was  tried,  there  was  tried  also,  and  sentenced,  a 
young  man  named   Stowell.     I   well  remember  that   raw  and   dreary 
morning,  the  12th  of  March,  when,  handcuffed  to  Stowell,!  was  sent  from 
Kilmainham  prison  to  the  County  gaol  of  Kildare.     I  well  remember 
our  traversing,  so  handcuffed,  from  the  town  of  Sallins  to  the  town  of 
Naas,  ankle-deep  in  snow  and  mud,  and  I  recall  now   with  pain  our 
sad  forebodings  of  that  morning.     These  in  part  have  been  fulfilled. 
Sunday  after   Sunday   I  saw   poor  Stowell  at  chapel   in  Naas   gaol, 
drooping  and  dying.     One  such  Sunday — the   13th  of  May — passed, 
and  I  saw  him  no  more.     On  Wednesday,  the   15th,  he   was,  as  they 
say,  7nercifully  released   from  prison,  but  the   fiat  of  mercy  had  pre- 
viously gone  forth  from  a  higher  power — the  political  convict   simply 
reached  his  own  hom.e  to  die,  with  loving  eyes  watching  by  his  death- 
bed.    On  Sunday,  the  19th  of  May,  he  was  consigned  to  another  prison 
home  in  Glesnevin  Cemetery.     May   God  have  mercy  on  his   soul^ 
may  God  forgive  his  persecutors — may  God  give  peace  and  patienctf 
to  those  who  are  doomed  to  follow. 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK.  2C  5 

•*  Pardon  this  digression,  my  lords,  I  could  not  avoid  it.  Returning 
to  the  question,  why  sentence  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  me, 
I  would  ask  your  lordships'  attention  to  the  fact  showing,  even  in  the 
estimate  of  the  crown,  the  case  is  not  one  for  sentence. 

"  On  the  morning  of  my  trial,  and  before  the  trial,  terms  were 
offered  to  me  by  the  crown.  The  direct  proposition  was  made 
through  my  solicitor,  through  the  learned  counsel  who  so  ably  de- 
fended me,  through  the  governor  of  Kilmainham  prison — by  all 
three — that  if  I  pleaded  guilty  to  the  indictment,  I  should  get  off  with 
six  months'  imprisonment.  Knowing  tl  e  pliancy  of  Dublin  juries  in 
political  cases,  the  offer  was,  doubtless,  a  tempting  one.  Valuing 
liberty,  it  was  almost  resistless — in  view  of  a  possible  penal  servitude 
— but  having  regard  to  principle,  I  spurned  the  compromise.  I  then 
gave  unhesitatingly,  as  I  would  now  give,  the  answer,  that  not  for  a 
reduction  of  the  punishment  to  six  hours  would  I  surrender  faith — 
that  I  need  never  look,  and  could  never  look,  wife  or  childern,  friends 
or  family,  in  the  face  if  capable  of  such  a  selfish  cowardice.  I  could 
not,  to  save  myself,  imperil  the  safety  of  others — I  could  not  plead 
guilty  to  an  indictment  in  which  six  others  were  distinctly  charged  by 
name  as  co-conspirators  with  me — one  of  those  six  since  tried,  con- 
victed, and  sentenced  to  death — I  could  not  consent  to  obtain  my 
own  pardon  at  their  expense — furnish  the  crown  with  a  case  in  point 
for  future  convictions,  and  become,  even  though  indirectly,  worthy  to 
rank  with  that  brazen  battalion  of  venal  vagabonds,  who  have  made 
the  Holy  Gospel  of  God  the  medium  of  barter  for  their  unholy  gain, 
and  obtained  access  to  the  inmost  heart  of  their  selected  victim  only 
to  coin  its  throbbing  into  the  traitor's  gold,  and  traffic  on  its  very  life- 
blood. 

"Had  I  been  charged  simply  with  my  own  words  and  deeds  I 
would  have  no  hesitation  in  making  acknowledgment.  I  have  nothing 
to  repent,  and  nothing  to  conceal — nothing  to  retract,  and  nothing 
to  countermand  ;-  but  iu  the  language  of  the  learned  Lord  Chief- 
Baron  in  this  case,  I  could  not  admit  '  the  preposterous  idea  of  think- 
ing by  deputy,'  any  more  than  I  could  plead  guilty  to  an  indictment 
which  charged  others  with  crime.  Further,  my  lords,  I  could  not 
acknowledge  culpability  for  the  acts  and  words  of  others  at  a  distance 
of  three  thousand  miles — others  whom  I  had  never  seen,  or  of  whom  I 
had  never  heard,  and  with  whom  I  never  had  had  communication.  I 
could  not  admit  that  the  demoniac  atrocities  described  as  Fenian 
principles  by  the  constabulary-spy  Talbot,  ever  had  my  sanction  or 
approval  or  the  sanction  or  approval  of  any  man  in  America. 

"If,  my  lords,  six  months'  imprisonment  was  the  admeasurement 
of  the  law  officers  of  the  crown  as  an  adequate  punishment  for  my 
alleged  offence — assuming  that  the  court  had  jurisdiction  to  try  and 
punish — then,  am  I  now  entitled  to  my  discharge,  for  I  have  gone 
through  seven  months'  imprisonment  which  could  not  be  excelled  by 


2o6  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

demon  engenuity  in  horror  or  in  hardship — in  solitude,  in  silence,  an<J 
in  suspense.  Your  lordships  will  not  only  render  further  litigation 
necessary  by  passing  sentence  for  the  perhaps  high  crime — but  still 
the  untried  crime — of  refusing  to  yield  obedience  to  the  crown's  pro- 
position  for  my  self-abasement.  You  will  not,  I  am  sure,  visit  upon 
my  rejection  of  Mr.  Anderson's  delicate  overture — you  will  not  surely 
permit  the  events  occurring,  unhappily  occurring,  since  my  trial,  to 
influence  your  judgments.  And  do  not,  I  implore  you,  accept  as  a 
truth,  influencing  that  judgment,  Talbot's  definition  of  the  objects 
of  Fenianism.  Hear  what  Devany,  the  American  informer,  describes 
them  to  be.  'The  members,'  he  says,  '  wtxt  pledged  by  word  of  honor 
to  promote  love  and  harmony  amongst  all  classes  of  Irishmen  and  to 
to  labor  for  the  independence  of  Irelaud.'  Talbot  says  that  in  Ire- 
land '  the  members  are  bound  by  oath  to  seize  the  property  of  the 
country,  and  murder  all  opposed  to  them.'  Can  any  two  principles 
be  more  distinct  from  each  other  ?  Could  there  be  a  conspiracy  for 
a  common  object  by  such  antagonistic  means  ?  To  murder  all  op- 
posed to  your  principles  may  be  an  effectual  way  of  producing  unani- 
mity, but  the  quality  of  love  and  harmony  engendered  by  such  a  pa- 
tent process,  would  be  extremely  equivocal.  Mr.  Talbot,  for  the 
purpose  of  his  evidence,  must  have  borrowed  a  leaf  from  the  History 
of  the  French  Revolution,  and  adopted  as  singularly  telling  and  ap- 
propriate for  effect  the  saying  attributed  to  Robespiere  :  '  Let  us  cut 
everybody's  throat  but  our  own,  and  then  we  are  sure  to  be  masters.' 

"  No  one  in  America,  I  i-enture  to  affirm,  ever  heard  of  such  designs 
in  connection  with  the  Fenian  Brotherhood.  No  one  in  America  would 
countenance  such  designs.  Revolutionists  are  not  ruffians  or  rap- 
parees.  A  judge  from  the  bench  at  Cork,  and  a  noble  lord  in  his 
place  in  Parliament,  bore  testimony  to  that  fact,  in  reference  to  the 
late  movement ;  and  I  ask  you,  my  lords — 1  would  ask  the  country 
from  this  court — for  the  sake  of  the  character  of  your  countrymen — 
to  believe  Devany's  interpretation  of  Fenianism — tainted  traitor 
though  he  be — rather  than  believe  that  the  kindly  instincts  of  Irish- 
men, at  home  and  abroad — their  generous  impulses — their  tender  sen- 
sibilities— all  their  human  affections,  in  a  word — could  degenerate  into 
the  attributes  of  the  assassin,  as  stated  by  that  hog-in-armor,  that 
crime-creating  Constable  Talbot. 

*'  Taking  other  ground,  my  lords,  I  object  to  any  sentence  upon  me. 
I  stand  at  this  bar  a  declared  citizen  of  the  United  States  of  America, 
entitled  to  the  protection  of  such  citizenship  ;  and  I  protest  against 
the  right  to  pass  any  sentence  in  any  British  court  for  acts  done,  or 
words  spoken,  or  alleged  to  be  done  or  spoken,  on  American  soil, 
within  the  shades  of  the  American  flag,  and  under  the  sanction  of 
American  institutions.  I  protest  against  the  assumption  that  would 
in  this  country  limit  the  right  of  thought,  or  control  the  liberty  of 
ipeech  in  an  assemblage  of  American  citizens  in  an  American  city. 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK 


267 


The  United  States  will,  doubtless,  respect  and  protect  her  neutrality 
laws,  and  observe  the  comity  of  nations,  whatever  they  may  mean  in 
practice,  but  I  protest  against  the  monstrous  fiction — the  transparent 
fraud — that  would  seek  in  ninety  years  after  the  evacuation  of  New 
York  by  the  British  to  bring  the  people  of  New  York  within  the  vision 
and  venue  of  a  British  jury — that  in  ninety  years  after  the  last  British 
bayonet  had  glistened  in  an  American  sunlight,  after  the  last  keel  of 
the  last  English  fleet  ploughed  its  last  furrow  in  the  Hudson  or  the 
Delaware — after  ninety  years  of  republican  independence — would  seek 
to  restore  that  city  of  New  York  and  its  institutions  to  the  dominion 
of  the  crown  and  government  of  Great  Britain.  This  is  the  meaning 
of  it,  and  disguise  it  as  you  may,  so  will  it  be  interpreted  beyond  the 
Atlantic.  Not  that  the  people  of  America  care  one  jot  whether  S.  J. 
Meany  were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered  to-morrow,  but  that  there 
is  a  great  principle  involved.  Personally,  I  am  of  no  consequence  ; 
politically,  I  represent  in  this  court  the  adopted  citizen  of  America — 
for,  as  the  New  York  Herald^  referring  to  this  case,  observed,  if  the 
acts  done  in  my  regard  are  justifiable,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  the 
extention  of  the  same  justice  to  any  other  adopted  citizen  of  the  States 
visiting  Great  Britain.  It  is,  therefore,  in  the  injustice  of  the  case  the 
influence  lies,  and  not  in  the  importance  of  the  individual. 

*' Law  is  called  'the  perfection  of  reason.'  Is  there  not  danger  of 
its  being  regarded  as  the  very  climax  of  absurdity,  if  fictions  of  this 
kind  can  be  turned  into  realities  on  the  mere  caprice  of  power?  As  a 
distinguished  English  journalist  has  suggested  in  reference  to  the  case, 
*  though  the  law  may  doubtless  be  satisfied  by  the  majority  in  the 
Court  of  Appeal,  yet  common  sense,  and  common  law,  would  be 
widely  antagonistic  if  sentence  were  to  follow  a  judgment  so  ob- 
tained.* 

"  On  all  grounds,  then,  I  submit,  in  conclusion,  this  is  not  a  case  for 
sentence.  Waving  for  the  purpose  the  international  objection,  and 
appealing  to  British  practice  itself,  I  say  it  is  not  a  fair  case  for  sen- 
tence. The  professed  policy  of  that  practice  has  ever  been  to  give 
the  benefit  of  doubt  to  the  prisoner.  Judges  in  their  charges  to  juries 
have  ever  theorized  on  this  principle,  and  surely  judges  themselves 
will  not  refuse  to  give  practical  effect  to  the  theory.  If  ever  there 
was  a  case  which  more  than  another  was  suggestive  of  doubt,  it  is 
surely  one  in  which  so  many  judges  have  pronounced  against  the 
legality  of  the  trial,  and  the  validity  of  the  conviction  on  which  you 
are  about  to  pass  sentence.  Each  of  these  judges,  be  it  remembered, 
held  competent  in  his  individuality  to  administer  the  criminal  law  of 
the  country — each  of  whom,  in  fact,  in  his  individuality  does  so  ad- 
minister it  unchallenged  and  unquestioned. 

"  A  sentence  under  such  circumstances,  be  it  for  a  long  period  or 
a  short,  would  be  wanting  in  the  element  of  moral  effect — the  effect 
of  example — which  could  alone  give  it  value,  and  which  is  profess* 


2o8  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCIC. 

edly  the  aim  of  all  legal  punishment.  A  sentence  under  such  circum. 
stances  would  be  far  from  reassuring  to  the  public  mind  as  to  the 
'certainties'  of  the  law,  and  would  fail  to  commend  the  approval  ot 
win  the  respect  of  any  man  'within  the  realm  or  without.'  While  to 
the  prisoner,  to  the  sufferer  in  chief,  it  would  only  bring  the  bitter, 
and  certainly  not  the  repentant  feeling,  that  he  suffered  in  the  wrong 
— that  he  was  the  victim  of  an  injustice  based  on  an  inference  which 
not  even  the  tyrant's  plea  of  necessity  can  sustain — namely,  that  at  a 
particular  time  he  was  at  a  distance  of  three  thousand  miles  from  the 
place  where  he  then  actually  stood  in  bodily  presence,  and  that  at  that 
distance  he  actually  thought  the  thoughts,  and  acted  the  acts  of  men 
unknown  to  him  even  by  name.  It  will  bring  to  the  prisoner,  I  re- 
peat, the  feeling — the  bitter  feeling — that  he  was  condemned  on  an 
unindicted  charge,  pressed  suddenly  into  the  service,  and  for  a  con- 
structive crime  which  some  of  the  best  authorities  in  the  law  have 
declared  not  to  be  a  crime  cognizable  in  any  of  your  courts. 

*'  Let  the  crown  put  forward  any  supposition  they  please — indulge 
in  what  special  pleadings  they  will — sugar  over  the  bitter  pill  of  con- 
structive conspiracy  as  they  can — to  this  complexion  must  come  the 
triangular  injustice  of  this  case — the  illegal  and  unconstitutional  kid- 
napping in  England — the  unfair  and  invalid  trial  and  conviction  in 
Ireland  for  the  alleged  offence  in  another  henusphere  and  undei 
another  sovereignty.     My  lords,  I  have  done." 


CAPTAIN  JOHN  M'CLURE. 

APTAIN  JOHN  M'CLURE,  like  Captain  M'Afferty, 
was  an  American  born,  but  of  Irish  parentage.  He 
was  born  at  Dobb's  Ferry,  twenty-two  miles  from  New 
York,  on  July  17th,  1846,  and  he  was  therefore  a  mere 
youth  when,  serving  with  distinguished  gallantry  in 
the  Federal  ranks,  he  attained  the  rank  of  captain. 
He  took  part  in  the  Fenian  rising  of  the  5th  of  March,  and  was 
prominently  concerned  in  the  attack  and  capture  of  Knocka- 
doon  coast-guard  station.  He  and  his  companion,  Edward 
Kelly,  were  captured  by  a  militar}^  party  at  Kilclooney  Wood, 
on  March  31st,  after  a  smart  skirmish,  in  which  their  compa- 
triot, the  heroic  and  saintly  Peter  Crowley,  lost  his  life.     Hig 


SPEECIIFS  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


209 


trial  took  place  before  tlie  Special  Commission  at  Cork,  on 
May  22d  and  23d,  1867.  The  following  are  the  spirited  and 
eloquent  terms  in  which  he  addressed  the  court  previous  to 
sentence  being  pronounced  on  him  : — 

"  My  Lords, — In  answer  to  the  question  as  to  why  the  sentence  of 
the  court  should  not  now  be  passed  upon  me,  I  would  desire  to  make 
a  few  remarks  in  relation  to  my  late  exertions  in  behalf  of  the  suffer- 
ing people  of  this  country,  in  aiding  them  in  their  earnest  endeavors 
to  attain  the  independence  of  their  native  land.  Although  not  born 
upon  the  soil  of  Ireland,  my  parents  were,  and  from  history,  and  tra- 
dition, and  fireside  relations,  I  became  conversant  with  the  country's 
history  from  my  earliest  childhood,  and  as  the  human  race  will  ever 
possess  these  God-like  qualities  which  inspire  mankind  with  sympathy 
for  the  suffering,  a  desire  to  aid  poor  Ireland  to  rise  from  her  moral 
degradation  took  possession  of  me.  I  do  not  now  wish  to  say  to 
what  I  assign  the  failure  of  that  enterprise  with  which  are  associated 
my  well-meant  acts  for  this  persecuted  land.  I  feel  fully  satisfieid  of 
the  righteousness  of  my  every  act  in  connection  with  the  late  revolu- 
tionary movement  in  this  country,  being  actuated  by  a  holy  desire  to 
assist  in  the  emancipation  of  an  enslaved  and  generous  people.  I 
derive  more  pleasure  from  having  done  the  act  than  from  any  other 
event  that  has  occurred  to  me  during  my  eventful  but  youthful  life. 
I  wish  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  here,  standing  as  I  do  perhaps 
on  the  brink  of  an  early  grave,  that  I  am  no  fillibuster  or  freebooter, 
and  that  I  had  no  personal  object  or  inclination  to  gain  anything  in 
coming  to  this  country.  I  came  solely  through  love  of  Ireland,  and 
sympathy  for  her  people.  If  I  have  forfeited  my  life,  I  am  ready  to 
abide  the  issue.  If  my  exertions  on  behalf  of  a  distressed  people  be 
a  crime,  I  am  willing  to  pay  the  penalty,  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  what 
I  have  done  was  in  behalf  of  a  people  whose  cause  is  just — a  people 
who  will  appreciate  and  honor  a  man,  although  he  may  not  be  a 
countryman  of  their  own — still  a  man  who  is  willing  to  suffer  in  de- 
fence of  that  divine,  that  American  principle — the  right  of  self-gov- 
ernment. I  would  wish  to  tender  to  my  learned  and  eloquent 
counsel,  Mr.  Heron  and  Mr.  Waters,  and  to  my  solicitor,  Mr. 
Collins,  my  sincere  and  heartfelt  thanks,  for  the  able  manner  in  which 
they  have  conducted  my  defence.  And  now,  my  lords,  I  trust  I  will 
meet  in  a  becoming  manner  the  penalty  which  it  is  now  the  duty  of 
your  lordship  to  pronounce  upon  me.     I  have  nothing  more  to  say," 


2T0  SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK. 

EDWARD  KFLLY. 


N  the  same  occasion  the  prisoner  Edward  Kelly  de 
livered  the  following  soul-stirring  address: — 

"  My  Lords, — The  novelty  of  my  situation  will  plead  foi 
any  want  of  fluency  on  my  part ;  and  I  beg  your  lordships* 
indulgence,  if  I  am  unnecessarily  tedious.  I  have  to  thank 
the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  for  their  recommendation,  which  I  know 
was  well  meant ;  but  knowing,  as  I  do,  what  that  mercy  will  be,  I 
heartily  wish  that  recommendation  will  not  be  received.  Why  should 
I  feel  regret  ?  What  is  death  ?  The  act  of  passing  from  this  life  into 
the  next.  I  trust  that  God  will  pardon  me  my  sins,  and  that  I  wili 
have  no  cause  to  fear  entering  into  the  presence  of  the  ever-living  and 
Most  Merciful  Father.  I  don't  recollect  in  my  life  ever  having  done 
anything  with  a  deliberately  bad  intention.  In  my  late  conduct  I  do 
not  see  anything  for  regret.  Why,  then,  I  say,  should  I  feel  regret ! 
I  leave  the  dread  of  death  to  such  wretches  as  Corridon  and  Massey 
— Corridon,  a  name  once  so  suggestive  of  sweetness  and  peace,  now 
the  representative  of  a  loathsome  monster.  If  there  be  anything  that 
can  sink   that  man,  Corridon,  lower    in    the    scale   of    degradation, 

It  IS — 

The  Chief- Justice — "We  cannot  listen  to  any  imputation  on  per- 
sons who  were  examined  as  witnesses.  Strictly  speaking,  you  are  only 
to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed  upon  you  ;  at  the 
same  time  we  are  very  unwilling/  to  hold  a  very  strict  hand,  but  we 
cannot  allow  imputations  to  be  made  on  third  persons,  witnesses  or 
others,  who  have  come  forward  in  this  trial." 

Prisoner — ''Well,  my  lord,  I  will  answer  as  well  as  I  can  the  ques- 
tion put  to  me.  The  Irish  people  through  every  generation,  ever  since 
England  has  obtained  a  footing  in  Ireland,  have  protested  against  the 
occupation  of  our  native  soil  by  the  English.  Surely  that  is  answer 
enough  why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed  upon  me.  In 
the  part  I  have  taken  in  the  late  insurrection,  I  feel  conscious  that  I 
was  doing  right.  Next  to  serving  his  Creator,  I  believe  it  is  a  man's 
solemn  duty  to  serve  his  country.  [Here  the  prisoner  paused  to  sup- 
press his  emotion,  which  rendered  his  utterance  very  feeble,  and 
continued] — My  lords,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  except  to  quote 
the  words  of  the  sacred  Psalmist,  in  which  you  will  understand  that  I 
speak  of  my  country  as  he  speaks  of  his  : — 'If  I  forget  thee,  O  Jeru- 
salem, let  my  right  hand  be  forgotten.  Let  my  tongue  cleave  to  my 
jaws  if  I  do  not  remember  thee  ;  if  I  make  not  Jerusalem  the  begin- 
ning of  my  joy.  Remember,  O  Lord,  the  children  of  Edom,  in  the  day 
of  Jerusalem  ;  who  say,  raze,  raze  it,  even  to  the  foundation  thereof.    O 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  21 1 

daughter  of  Babylon,  miserable  ;  bles;  cd  be  he  who  ihall  repay  thee 
thy  payment  which   thou  hast  paid  us.'     In  conclusion,  my  lords,  I 
wish  to  give  my  thanks  to  my  attorney,  Mr.  Collins,  for  his  untiring 
exertions,  and  also  to  my  counsel,  Mr.  Heron,  for  his  able  defence 
and  to  Mr.  Waters." 


CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  MACKAY. 

,N  the  evidence  adduced  at  the  Cork  Summer  Assizes 
of  1867,  on  the  trials  of  persons  charged  with  partic- 
ipation  in  the  Fenian  rising  of  March  5th,  the  name 
of  Captain  Mackay  frequently  turned  up.  The  cap- 
tain, it  would  appear,  was  a  person  of  influence  and 
importance  in  the  insurrectionary  army.  He  had 
taken  part  in  many  councils  of  the  Fenian  leaders,  he  was 
trusted  implicitly  by  his  political  friends,  and  much  deference 
was  paid  to  his  opinion.  But  more  than  all  this,  he  had  taken 
the  field  on  the  night  of  the  rising,  led  his  men  gallantly  to  the 
attack  of  Ballyknockane  police  barrack,  and  to  the  great  hor- 
ror of  all  loyal  subjects,  committed  the  enormous  offence  of 
capturing  it.  This,  and  the  similar  successes  achieved  by  Len- 
non  at  Stepaside  and  Glencullen,  county  Wicklow,  were  some 
of  the  incidents  of  the  attempted  rebellion  which  most  annoyed 
the  government,  who  well  knew  the  influence  which  such 
events,  occuring  at  the  outset  of  a  revolutionary  movement, 
are  apt  to  exercise  on  the  popular  mind.  Captain  Mackay, 
therefore,  was  badly  "  wanted"  by  the  authorities  after  the 
Fenian  rising;  there  was  any  money  to  be  given  for  informa- 
tion  concerning  the  whereabouts  of  Captain  Mackay,  but  it 
came  not.  Every  loyal-minded  policeman  in  Cork  county,  and 
in  all  the  other  Irish  counties,  and  every  detective,  and  every 
spy,  and  every  traitor  in  the  pay  of  the  government,  kept  a 
sharp  look-out  for  the  audacious  Captain  Mackay,  who  had 
compelled  the  garrison  of  one  of  her  Majesty's  police  barracks 
to  surrender  to  him,  and  hand  him  up  their  arms  in  the  quiet- 


212  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

est  and  most  polite  manner  imaginable  ;  but  they  saw  him  not, 
or  if  they  saw,  they  did  not  recognize  him. 

So  month  after  month  rolled  on,  and  no  trace  of  Captain 
Mackay  could  be  had.  The  vigilant  guardians  and  servants  of 
English  law  in  Ireland,  then  began  to  think  he  must  have  man- 
aged to  get  clear  out  of  the  country,  and  rather  expected  that 
the  next  thing  they  would  hear  of  him  would  be  that  he  was 
organizing  and  lecturing  amongst  the  Irish  enemies  of  England 
in  the  United  States.  There,  however,  they  were  quite  mistaken, 
as  they  soon  found  out  to  their  very  great  vexation  and  alarm. 

On  the  27th  day  of  December,  1867,  there  was  strange  news 
in  Cork,  and  strange  news  all  over  the  country,  for  the  telegraph 
wires  spread  it  in  every  direction.  The  news  was  that  on  the 
previous  evening  a  party  of  Fenians  had  entered  the  Martello 
tower  at  Foaty,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Cork  river,  made  pris- 
oners of  the  gunners  who  were  in  charge,  and  had  then  taken 
possession  of,  and  borne  away  all  the  arms  and  ammunition 
they  could  find  in  the  place  !  Startling  news  this  was,  undoubt- 
edly. Loyal  men  stopped  each  other  in  the  streets,  and  asked 
if  anything  like  it  had  ever  been  heard  of.  They  wanted  to 
know  if  things  were  not  coming  to  a  pretty  pass,  and  did  not 
hesitate  to  say  they  would  feel  greatly  obliged  to  any  one  who 
could  answer  for  them  the  question  ''  What  next  ?"  For  this 
sack  of  the  Martello  tower  was  not  the  first  successful  raid  for 
arms  which  the  Fenians  had  made  in  that  neighborhood. 
About  a  month  before — on  the  night  of  November  28th — they 
had  contrived  to  get  into  the  shop  of  Mr.  Richardson,  gun- 
maker,  Patrick  Street,  and  abstract  from  the  premises  no  fewer 
than  120  revolvers  and  eight  Snider  rifles,  accomplishing  the 
feat  so  skilfully,  that  no  trace  either  of  the  weapons  or  the  de- 
predators had  since  been  discovered.  This  was  what  might  be 
called  a  smart  stroke  of  work,  but  it  shrunk  into  insignificance 
compared  with  the  audacious  act  of  plundering  one  of  her  Ma- 
jesty's fortified  stations. 

The  details  of   the  affair,  which  were   soon    known,  were  re- 
ceived by  the  public  with  mingled  feelings  of   amusement  and 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK, 


213 


amazement.  The  Fenian  party,  it  was  learned,  had  got  into 
the  tower  by  the  usual  means  of  entrance — a  step-ladder  reach- 
ing to  the  door,  which  is  situate  at  some  height  from  the 
ground.  One  party  of  the  invaders  remained  in  the  apart- 
ment just  inside  the  entrance  door,  v/hile  another,  numbering 
five  persons,  proceeded  to  an  inner  room,  where  they  found 
two  gunners,  with  their  families  just  in  the  act  of  sitting  down 
to  tea.  In  an  instant  revolvers  were  placed  at  the  heads  of 
the  men,  who  were  told  not  to  stir  on  peril  of  their  lives.  At 
the  same  time  assurances  were  given  to  them,  and  to  the  af- 
frighted women,  that  if  they  only  kept  quiet  and  complied 
with  the  demand  of  the  party  no  harm  whatever  should  befal 
them.  The  garrison  saw  that  resistance  was  useless,  and 
promptly  acceded  to  those  terms.  The  invaders  then  asked 
for  and  got  the  keys  of  the  magazine,  which  they  handed 
out  to  their  friends,  who  set  to  work  to  remove  the  ammunition 
which  they  found  stored  in  the  vaults.  They  seized  about  300 
pounds  of  gunpowder,  made  up  in  81b.  cartridges,  a  quantity 
of  fuses  and  other  military  stores,  and  then  proceeded  to  search 
the  entire  building  for  arms.  Of  these,  however,  they  found 
very  little — nothing  more  than  the  rifles  and  sword-bayonets 
of  the  two  or  three  men  who  constituted  the  garrison,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  seemed  to  occasion  them  much  disappoint- 
ment. They  were  particularly  earnest  and  pressing  in  their 
inquiries  for  handgrenades,  a  species  of  missile  which  they  had 
supposed  was  also  kept  "  in  stock"  in  such  places.  They  could 
scarcely  believe  that  there  were  none  to  be  had.  Some  charges 
of  grape-shot  which  they  laid  hands  on  might  be,  they  thought, 
the  sort  of  weapon  they  were  in  quest  of,  and  they  proceeded 
to  dissect  and  analyze  one  of  them.  Grape-shot,  we  may  ex- 
plain to  the  unlearned  in  these  matters,  is  an  assemblage  in  the 
form  of  a  cylindrical  column,  of  nine  balls  resting  on  a  circular 
plate,  through  which  passes  a  pin  serving  as  an  axis.  The 
balls  are  contained  in  a  strong  canvas  bag,  and  are  bound  to- 
gether on  the  exterior  of  the  latter  by  a  cord  disposed  about  the 
column  in  the  manner  of  a  net.     This  was  not  the  sort  of  thing 


21  A  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

the  Fenian  party  wanted  ;  grape-shot  could  be  of  no  use  to  thcTj. 
for  the  Fenian  organization,  to  its  great  sorrow,  was  possessed 
of  no  artillery ;  they  resolved,  therefore,  to  leave  those  in- 
geniously-constructed packages  behind  them,  and  to  retire  with 
the  more  serviceable  spoils  they  had  gathered.  While  the 
search  was  proceeding,  the  Fenian  sentries,  with  revolvers  ready 
in  their  hands,  stood  guard  over  the  gunners,  and  prevented 
any  one — young  or  old,  from  quitting  the  room.  They  spoke 
kindly  to  all,  however,  chatted  with  the  women,  and  won  the 
affectionate  regard  of  the  youngsters  by  distributing  money 
a-nonsf  them.  One  of  these  strange  visitors  became  so  familiar 
as  to  tell  one  of  the  women  that  if  she  wished  to  know  who  he 
was,  his  name  was  Captain  Mac — a  piece  of  information  which 
did  not  strike  her  at  the  time  as  being  of  any  peculiar  value. 
When  the  party  had  got  their  booty  safely  removed  from  the 
building,  this  chivalrous  captain  and  his  four  assistant  sentries 
prepared  to  leave ;  they  cautioned  the  gunners,  of  whom  there 
were  three  at  this  time  in  the  building — one  having  entered 
while  the  search  was  proceeding — against  quitting  the  fort  till 
morning,  stating  that  men  would  be  on  the  watch  outside  to 
shoot  them  if  they  should  attempt  it.  So  much  being  said 
and  done,  they  bade  a  polite  good-evening  to  her  Majesty's 
gunners  and  their  interesting  families,  and  withdrew. 

The  heroic  garrison  did  not  venture  out  immediately  after 
they  had  been  relieved  of  the  presence  of  the  Fenian  party ; 
but  finding  that  a  few  charges  of  powder  was  still  stowed  away 
in  a  corner  of  the  fort,  they  hurried  with  them  to  the  top 
of  the  building  and  commenced  to  blaze  away  from  the  big 
gun  which  was  there  in  situ.  This  performance  they  meant  as 
a  signal  of  distress ;  but  though  the  sounds  were  heard  and  the 
flashes  seen  far  and  wide,  no  one  divined  the  object  of  what 
appeared  to  be  nothing  more  than  an  oddly-timed  bit  of  artil- 
lery practice.  Next  morning  the  whole  story  was  in  everyone's 
mouth.  Vast  was  the  amusement  which  it  afforded  to  the 
Corkonians  generally,  and  many  were  the  encomiums  which  they 
passed  on  the  dashing  Irish-Americans  and  smart  youths  of 


SPEECffRS  FROM   THE  DOCK 


215 


Cork's  own  town  who  had  accomplished  so  daring  and  clevei: 
a  feat.  Proportionally  great  was  the  irritation  felt  by  the 
sprinkling  of  loyalists,  and  by  the  paid  serv^ants  of  the  crown  in 
that  quarter.  One  hope  at  all  events  the  latter  party  had,  that 
the  leader  in  the  adventure  would  soon  be  "  in  the  hands  of 
justice,"  and  one  comforting  assurance,  that  never  again  would 
the  Fenians  be  able  to  replenish  their  armory  in  so  easy  and  so 
unlawful  a  manner. 

Four  days  afterwards  there  was  another  *'  sensation"  in  Cork. 
The  Fenian  collectors  of  arms  had  made  another  haul!  And 
this  time  their  mode  of  action  surpassed  all  their  previous  per- 
formances in  coolness  and  daring.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  on  the  30th  of  December,  eight  men,  who  had  as- 
sumed no  disguise,  suddenly  entered  the  shop  of  Mr.  Henry  All- 
port,  gunmaker,  of  Patrick  Street,  and  producing  revolvers  from 
their  pockets,  covered  him  and  his  two  assistants,  telling  them  at 
the  same  time  that  if  they  ventured  to  stir,  or  raise  any  outcr\^ 
they  were  dead  men.  While  the  shopmen  remained  thus  bound 
to  silence,  five  of  the  party  proceeded  to  collect  all  the  rifles  and 
revolvers  in  the  establishment,  and  place  them  in  a  canvas  sack 
which  had  been  brought  for  the  purpose.  This  sack,  into 
which  a  few  guns  and  seventy-two  splendid  revolvers  of  the 
newest  construction  had  been  put,  was  then  carried  off  by  two 
men,  who,  having  transferred  the  contents  to  the  safe-keeping 
of  some  confederates,  returned  with  it  very  quickly  to  receive 
and  bear  away  a  large  quanity  of  revolver-cartridges  which  had 
been  found  in  the  shop.  This  second  ''  loot"  having  been  ef- 
fected, the  guards  who  stood  over  Mr.  AUport  and  his  men, 
lowered  their  weapons,  and  after  cautioning  all  three  not 
to  dare  to  follow  them,  quitted  the  shop  in  a  leisurely 
manner,  and  disappeared  down  one  of  the  by-streets.  As 
soon  as  he  was  able  to  collect  his  scattered  wits,  Mr.  All- 
port  rushed  to  the  nearest  police  station,  and  gave  infor- 
mation of  what  had  occurred.  The  police  hastened  to  the 
scene  of  this  daring  exploit,  but  of  course**  the  birds  were 
flown,"  and  no  one  could  say  whither. 


2i6  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK, 

Needless  to  say  how  this  occurrence  intensified  the  preplex- 
ity  and  the  rage  of  the  government  party  in  all  parts  of  the 
country.  There  was  surely  some  fierce  swearing  in  Dublin 
Castle  on  the  day  that  news  arrived,  and  perhaps  many  a  pas- 
sionate query  blurted  out  as  to  whether  police,  detectives, 
magistrates,  and  all  in  that  southern  district  were  not  secertly 
in  league  with  the  rebels.  In  fact,  a  surmise  actually  got  into 
the  papers  that  the  proprietors  of  the  gunshops  knew  more 
about  the  disappearance  of  the  arms,  and  were  less  aggrieved 
by  the  ''  seizure"  than  they  cared  to  acknowledge.  However 
this  might  be,  the  popular  party  enjoyed  the  whole  thing  im- 
mensely, laughed  over  it  heartily,  and  expressed  in  strong  terms 
their  admiration  of  the  skill  and  daring  displayed  by  the  opera- 
tors. The  following  squib,  which  appeared  in  the  Nation  at 
the  time,  over  the  initials  '' T.  D.  S.,"  affords  an  indication  of 
the  feelings  excited  among  Irish  nationalists  by  those  extras 
ordinary  occurrences: 

•'THE  CORK  MEN  AND  NEW  YORK  MEN. 

**Oh,  the  gallant  Cork  men, 

Mixed  with  New  York  men, 
I*m  sure  their  equals  they  can't  be  found. 

For  persevering 

In  deeds  of  daring, 
They  set  men  staring,  the  world  around. 

No  spies  can  match  them, 

No  sentries  watch  them, 
No  specials  catch  them,  or  mar  their  plaj( 

While  the  clever  Cork  men. 

And  cute  New  York  men, 
Work  new  surprises  by  night  and  dtf. 

*'  Sedate  and  steady, 
Calm,  quick,  and  ready, 
They  boldly  enter,  and  make  no  din. 

Where'er  such  trifles 
As  Snider  rifles 
And  bright  six-shooters  are  stored  within. 
The  Queen's  round  towers 
Can't  balk  their  powers, 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  21/ 

Off  go  the  weapons,  by  sea  and  shore, 

To  where  the  Cork  men, 

And  smart  New  York  men, 
Are  daily  piling  their  precious  store. 

"John  Bull,  in  wonder, 

With  voice  like  thunder, 
Declares  such  plunder  he  must  dislike/ 

They  next  may  roll  in 

And  sack  Haulbowline, 
Or  on  a  sudden  run  off  with  Spike. 

His  peace  is  vanished, 

His  joys  are  banished, 
And  gay  or  happy  no  more  he'll  bc. 

Until  those  Cork  men. 

And  wild  New  York  men, 
Are  sunk  together  beneath  the  sea. 

**0h,  bold  New  York  men. 
And  daring  Cork  men, 
We  own  our  pleasures  should  all  grow  <fim. 
On  thus  discerning, 
And  plainly  learning, 
That  your  amusement  gives  pain  to  him. 
Yet,  from  the  nation. 
This  salutation 
Leaps  forth,  and  echoes  with  thunderous  sound—* 
'  Here's  to  all  Cork  men, 
Likewise  New  York  men, 
Who  stand  for  Ireland,  the  world  around!'" 

But  Captain   Mackay,  skilful  and  'Mucky"  as  he  was,  was 
trapped  at  last. 

On  the  evening  of  the  7th  of  February,  1868,  he  walked  into 
the  grocery  and  spirit  shop  of  Mr.  Cronin,  in  Market  Street — not 
to  drink  whiskey  or  anything  of  that  sort,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
strictly  temperate  habits,  and  he  well  knew  that  of  all  men 
those  who  are  engaged  in  the  dangerous  game  of  conspiracy 
and  revolution  can  least  afford  to  partake  of  drinks  that  may 
unloose  their  tongues  and  let  their  wits  run  wild.  He  called 
for  a  glass  of  lemonade,  and  recognizing  some  persons  who 
were  in  the  shop  at  the  time,  he  commenced  a  conversation 
with  them. 


2ig  SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 

Only  a  few  minutes  from  the  time  of  his  entrance  had 
elapsed  when  a  party  of  police,  wearing  a  disguise  over  theif 
uniforms,  rushed  into  the  shop,  and  commanded  the  door  to  be 
shut. 

The  men  inside  attempted  to  separate  and  escape,  but  they 
were  instantly  grappled  by  the  police.  One  of  the  force 
seized  Captain  Mackay  by  the  collar,  and  a  vigorous  struggle 
between  them  at  once  commenced.  The  policeman  was  much 
the  larger  man  of  the  two,  but  the  Fenian  captain  was  wiry 
a:id  muscular,  and  proved  quite  a  match  for  him.  They  fell, 
and  rose,  and  fell,  and  rose  again,  the  policeman  undermost 
sometimes,  and  at  other  times  the  Fenian  captain.  They 
struggled  for  nearly  twenty  minutes. 

''  Dead  or  alive,  I'll  take  you,"  said  the  policeman,  as  he  drew 
his  revolver  from  his  pocket. 

"  I  have  but  one  life  to  lose,  and  if  it  goes,  so  be  it,"  replied 
Mackay,  drawing  a  weapon  of  the  same  kind. 

In  another  instant  there  was  a  clash  as  of  striking  steel,  and 
a  discharge  of  one  of  the  weapons. 

"  Good  God  !  I'm  shot !"  exclaimed  Constable  Casey,  from  the 
end  of  the  room,  and  he  fell  upon  the  floor. 

Captain  Mackay's  revolver  had  gone  off  in  the  struggle,  and 
the  ball  had  struck  the  constable  in  the  leg,  inflicting  on  him 
a  serious    ;ound. 

By  this  time  several  parties  of  police  had  arrived  in  the 
cjj'eet,  and  stationed  themselves  so  as  to  prevent  the  formation 
of  a  crowd,  and  deter  the  people  from  any  attempt  at  rescue. 
A  reinforcement  havmr;  turn^^d  into  th;  house  in  which  the 
struggle  was  going  ©n.  Captain  Mactey  ehc:'  thers  who  had 
been  in  his  company  were  made  JiiiOjuers,  and  marched  off  in 
custody. 

Some  days  afterwards,  the  wouasdlGd  constable,  who  had  re- 
fused to  submit  to  ampu jauiicn  '^i  the  v/ounded  limb,  died  in 
hospital. 

On  the  lOth  ol  Wm^^.,  18680  at  the  Cork  Assizes,  Judge 
'    Hagan  pVQsiding,  CaLO'tain  Mackay  was  put  on  his  trial  fof 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK,  210 

murder  The  evidence  established  a  probability  that  the  dis- 
charge of  the  prisoner's  revolver  was  not  intended  or  effected 
by  him,  but  was  a  consequence  of  its  having  been  struck  by  the 
revolver  of  the  policeman  who  was  struggling  with  him.  The 
verdict  of  the  jury  therefore  was  one  of  acquittal. 

But  then  came  the  other  charge  against  him,  the  charge  of 
treason-felony,  for  his  connection  with  the  Fenian  Brotherhood, 
and  his  part  in  the  recent  "  rising."  For  this  he  was  put  on 
trial  on  the  20th  day  of  March.  He  was  ably  defended  by  Mr. 
Heron,  Q.C. ;  but  the  evidence  against  him  was  conclusive. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  testimony  of  the  informers,  which  should 
never  for  a  moment  be  regarded  as  trustworthy,  there  was  the 
evidence  and  the  identification  supplied  by  the  gunners  of  the 
Martello  tower  and  their  wives,  and  the  policemen  of  Bally- 
knockane  station  and  the  wife  of  one  of  them.  This  evidence, 
while  establishing  the  fact  that  the  prisoner  had  been  con- 
cerned in  the  levying  of  war  against  the  crown,  established  also 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  man  as  chivalrous  and  gentle  as  he  was 
valorous  and  daring.  Some  of  the  incidents  proved  to  have 
occurred  during  the  attack  which  was  made,  under  his  leader- 
ship, on  the  police  barrack,  are  worthy  of  special  mention  in 
any  sketch,  however  brief,  of  the  life  and  adventures  of  this  re- 
markable man.  After  he,  at  the  head  of  his  party,  had  de- 
manded the  surrender  of  the  barrack  in  the  name  of  the  Irish 
Republic,  the  police  fired,  and  the  fire  was  returned.  Then 
the  insurgents  broke  in  the  door,  and  set  fire  to  the  lower  part 
of  the  barrack.  Still  the  police  held  out.  *' Surrender  !"  cried 
the  insurgents ;  "  You  want  to  commit  suicide,  but  ive  dont  want 
to  commit  murder^  One  of  the  policemen  then  cried  out  that 
a  little  girl,  his  daughter,  was  inside,  and  asked  if  the  attack- 
ing party  would  allow  her  to  be  passed  out?  Of  course  they 
would,  gladly;  and  the  little  girl  was  taken  out  of  the  window 
with  all  tenderness,  and  given  up  to  her  mother,  who  had 
chanced  to  be  outside  the  barrack  when  the  attack  commenced. 
At  this  time  a  Catholic  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Neville,  came 
on  the  spot.     He  asked  the  insurgent  leader  whether,  if  the 


220  SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 

police  surrendered,  any  harm  would  be  done  to  them?  "  Here 
is  my  revolver,"  said  Captain  Mackay,  "  let  the  contents  of  it  be 
put  through  me  if  one  of  them  should  be  injured."  Well  did 
Mr.  Heron,  in  his  able  speech,  referring  to  these  facts,  say, 
"Though  they  were  rebels  who  acted  that  heroic  part,  who 
could  say  their  hearts  were  not  animated  with  the  courage  of 
Leonidas,  and  the  chivalry  of  Bayard?" 

On  the  second  day  of  the  trial  the  jury  brought  in  their  ver- 
diet,  declaring  the  prisoner  guilty,  but  at  the  same  time  recom- 
mending  him  to  the  merciful  consideration  of  the  court,  be- 
cause of  the  humanity  which  he  had  displayed  towards  the 
men  whom  he  had  in  his  power.  The  finding  took  no  one  by 
surprise,  and  did  not  seem  to  trouble  the  prisoner  in  the  faint- 
est degree.  During  the  former  trial  some  shades  of  anxiety 
might  have  been  detected  on  his  features ;  the  charge  of  '*  mur- 
der" was  grevious  to  him,  but  when  that  was  happily  disposed 
of,  the  world  seemed  to  brighten  before  him,  and  he  took  his 
treason-felony  trial  cheerily.  He  knew  what  the  verdict  on 
the  evidence  would  be,  and  he  was  conscious  that  the  penalty 
to  be  imposed  on  him  would  be  no  trivial  one ;  he  felt  that  it 
was  hard  to  part  from  faithful  comrades,  and  dear  friends,  and, 
above  all,  from  the  young  wife  whom  he  had  married  only  a  few 
short  months  before ;  but  then  it  was  in  Ireland's  cause  he  was 
about  to  suffer,  and  for  that  he  could  endure  all. 

And  yet,  Ireland  was  not  his  native  land.  He  was  born  in 
Cincinnati,  Ohio,  in  the  year  1S41.  But  his  parents,  who  were 
natives  of  Castle-Lyonc.  no:;.:  Fermoy,  in  the  county  Cork, 
were  true  children  o:  Erin,  ivA  they  taught  their  son  to  love, 
even  as  they  did  themselves,  that  green  isle  far  away,  from 
which  a  hard  fate  had  jOii'^.peib 'i  them  to  ruam.  Patriotism, 
indeed,  was  hereditary  '.  1  clic  ?amily.  The  great-grandfather 
of  our  hero  suffered  deal'i  for  h^s  „^elity  to  the  cause  of  Ire- 
land in  the  memorable  year  1798  ;  raid  a  still  more  remarkable 
fact  is  that  Captain  Mackay — or  William  Francis  Lomasney, 
to  call  him  by  his  real  name — in  leaving  America  for  Ireland, 
in  1865,  to  take  part  in  the  contemplated  rising,  merely  took 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK.  ^21 

the  place  which  his  father  wished  and  intended  to  occupy. 
The  young  man  induced  him  to  remain  at  home,  and  claimed 
for  himself  the  post  of  danger.  Well  may  that  patriotic  father 
be  proud  of  such  a  son. 

When  called  upon  for  such  remarks  as  he  might  have  to 
offer  on  his  own  behalf,  Captain  Mackay,  without  any  of  the 
airs  of  a  practised  speaker,  but  yet  with  a  manner  that  some- 
how touched  every  heart,  and  visibly  affected  the  humane  and 
upright  judge  who  sat  on  the  bench,  delivered  the  following 
address : — 

"  My  Lord, — What  I  said  last  evening  I  think  calls  for  a  little  ex- 
planation. I  then  said  I  was  fully  satisfied  vnth  the  verdict— that  it 
was  a  fair  and  just  one.  I  say  so  still,  but:  I  wish  to  state  that  I  con- 
sider it  only  so  in  accordance  with  British  law,  and  that  it  is  not  in 
accordance  with  my  ideas  of  right  and  justice.  I  feel  that  with  the 
strong  evidence  there  was  against  me,  according  to  British  law,  the 
jury  could  not,  as  conscientious  men,  do  otherwise.  I  feel  that.  I 
thank  them  again  for  their  recommendation  to  mercy,  which,  I  have 
no  doubt,  was  prompted  by  a  good  intention  towards  me,  and  a  de- 
sire to  mitigate  what  they  considered  would  be  a  long  and  painful 
imprisonment.  Still,  I  will  say,  with  all  respect,  that  I  feel  the  utmost 
indifference  to  it,  I  do  so  for  this  reason — I  am  now  in  that  position 
that  I  must  rely  entirely  upon  the  goodness  of  God,  and  I  feel  confi- 
dent that  He  will  so  dispose  events  that  I  will  not  remain  a  prisoner 
so  long  as  your  lordship  may  be  pleased  to  decree.  The  jury  having 
now  found  me  guilty,  it  only  remains  for  your  lordship  to  give  effect 
to  their  verdict.  The  eloquence,  the  ability,  the  clear  reasoning,  and 
the  really  splendid  arguments  of  my  counsel,  failed,  as  I  knew  they 
would,  to  affect  the  jury.  I  feel,  therefore,  that  with  my  poor  talents 
it  would  be  utterly  vain  and  useless  for  me  to  attempt  to  stay  that  sen- 
tence which  it  now  becomes  your  lordship's  duty  to  pronounce.  I 
believe,  my  lord,  from  what  I  have  seen  of  your  lordship,  and  what  I 
have  heard  of  you,  it  will  be  to  you  a  painful  duty  to  inflict  the  sen- 
tence upon  me.  To  one  clinging  so  much  to  the  world  and  ii;  jcys- — to 
its  fond  ties  and  pleasant  associations,  as  I  naturally  do,  rtiirement 
into  banishment  is  seldom — very  seldom — welcome.  Of  that,  how- 
ever, I  do  not  complain.  But  to  any  man  whose  heart  glows  with  the 
warmest  impulses  and  the  most  intense  love  of  freedom;  strongly  at- 
tached to  kind  friends,  affectionate  parents,  loving  brother  and  sisters, 
and  a  devotedly  fond  and  loving  wife,  the  contemplation  of  a  long 
period  of  imprisonment  must  appear  most  terrible  and  appalling.  To 
me,  however,  viewing  it  from  a  purely  personal  point  of  view,  and 
considering  the  cause  lor  which  I  am  about  to  suffer,  far  fiom  being 


222  SPEECHES  FROM    THE   DOCK. 

dismayed — far  from    it  discouraging  me — it  proves  to  me  rather  \ 
source  of  joy  and  comfort.     True,  it  is  a  position  not  to  be  sought — • 
not  to  be  looked  for — it   is  one  which,  for   many,  very  many,  reasons 
there  is  no  occasion  for  me  now  to  explain,  may  be  thought  to  involve 
disgrace  or  discredit.     But,  so  far  from  viewing  it  in  that   light,  I  do 
not  shrink  from  it,  but  accept  it  readily,  feeling  proud   and  glad  that 
it  affords  me  an  opportunity  of  proving  the  sincerity  of  those   soul- 
elevating  principles  of  freedom    which  a  good  old   patriotic  father  in- 
stilled into  my  mind  from  my    earliest  years,  and   which  I  still   enter- 
tain with  a  strong  love,  whose    fervor  and  intensity  are  second  only 
to  the  sacred  homage  which  we    owe  to  God.     If,  having  lost  that 
freedom,  I  am  to  be  deprived  of  all  those  blessings — those  glad  and  joy- 
ous years  I  should  have  spent  amongst  my  loving  friends — I  shall  not 
complain,  I  shall  not  murmur,  but  with  calm  resignation  and  cheerful 
expectation,  I  shall  joyfully  submit  to  God's  blessed  will,  feeling  con- 
fident that  He  will  open   the  strongly    locked    and  barred   doors  of 
British  prisoners.     Till   that   glad   time  arrives,  it  is    consolation   and 
reward  enough  for  me  to  know  that  I   have    the  fervent  prayers,  tlie 
sympathy  and  loving  blessings   of  Ireland's  truly  noble   and  generous 
people,  and  far  easier,  more  soothing,  and  more  comforting  to  me,  will 
it  be  to   go  back  to  my  cheerless  cell,  than   it  would  be  to  live  in 
slavish  ease  and  luxury — a  witness  to  the   cruel  sufferings  and  terrible 
miseries  of  this  down- trodden  people.      Condemn    me,  then,  my   lord 
— condemn  me  to  a  felon's  doom.     To-night   I  will  sleep  in  a  prison- 
cell;  to-morrow  I  will   wear  a  convict's    dress;  but  to  me  it   will  be  a 
far  nobler  garb  than  the  richest  dress  of  slavery.     Coward  slaves  they 
be,  who  think  the  countless  sufferings  and   degradation  of  prison  life 
disgraces  a  man.     I  feel  otherwise.      It  is  as  impossible  to   subdue 
the  soul  animated  with  freedom  as  it  will  be  for  England  to  crush  the 
resolute  will  of  this  nation,  determined  as  it  is  to  be  free,  or  perish  in 
the  attempt.     According  to  the  British  law,  those  acts  proved  against 
me — fairly  proved  against  me,  I   acknowledge — may  be   crimes,  but 
morally,  in  the  eyes  of  freemen,  and  the  sight  of  God,  they  are  more 
ennobling  than  disgraceful.     Shame   is  only  a  connection    with  guilt. 
It  is  surely  not  a  crime   to  obey   God's  law,  or  to  assist  our   fellow- 
man  to  acquire  those   God-given   rights  which  no    men — no  nation — 
can  justly  deprive   them  of.     If  love  of  freedom,  and  a  desire   to  ex- 
tend its  unspeakable   blessings  to   all  God's  creatures,  irrespective   of 
race,  creed,  or  color,  be  a  crime — if  devotion  to  Ireland  and  love  of  its 
faithful,  its  honest,  its  kindly  people  be  a  crime,  then  I  say,  I  proudly  and 
gladly  acknowled.2;e  my  guilt.     If  it  is  a  disgrace,  all  I  can  say  is,  I  glory 
in  such  shame  and  dishonor;  and,  with  all  respect  for  the  court,  I  hold 
in  thorough  and  utmost  contempt  the  worst  punishment  that  can  be  in- 
flicted upon  me,  so  far  as  it  is  intended  to  deprive  me  of  this  feeling, 
and  degrade  me  in  the  eyes  of  my  fellowmen.       Oh,  no,  it  is  impossi- 
ble, my  lord;  the   freeman's  soul  can  never  be   dismayed.     England 


SPEECHES  FROM   THE  DOCK. 


223 


will  most  miserably  fail  if  she  expects  by  force  and  oppression  to 
crush  out — to  stamp  out,  as  the  Times  exclaimed — this  glorious  long- 
ing for  national  life  and  independence  which  now  fills  the  breasts  of 
millions  of  Irishmen,  and  which  only  requires  a  little  patience  and 
the  opportunity  to  effect  its  purpose.  Much  has  been  said  on  these 
trials,  on  the  objects  and  intentions  of  Fenianism.  I  feel  confidently, 
my  lord,  as  to  my  own  motives.  I  shall  not  be  guilty  of  the  egotism 
to  say  whether  they  are  pure  or  otherwise.  I  shall  leave  that  to  othtis 
to  judge.  I  am  not  qualified  to  judge  that  myself;  but  I  know  in  my 
soul  that  the  motives  which  prompted  me  were  pure,  patriotic,  and 
unselfish.  I  know  the  motives  that  actuate  the  most  active  members 
of  the  Fenian  organization;  and  I  know  that  very  few  persons,  e>;rept 
such  contemptible  wretches  as  Corridon,  have  profited  by  their  con- 
nection with  Fenianism.  My  best  friends  lost  all  they  ever  possessed 
by  it.  Talbot  and  Corridon,  I  believe,  have  sworn  on  previous  trials 
that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Fenians  to  have  dividtd  the  lands  of 
Ireland  amongst  themselves  in  the  event  of  success.  Though  an  hum- 
ble member  of  the  organization,  I  have  the  honor  and  satisfaction  of 
being  acquainted  with  the  great  majority  of  the  leaders  of  Fenianism 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  and  I  never  knew  one  of  thtm  to  have 
exhibited  a  desire  other  than  to  have  the  proud  satisfaction  of  freeing 
Ireland,  which  was  the  only  reward  they  ever  yearned  for^ — the  only 
object  that  ever  animated  them.  As  to  myself,  I  can  truly  say  that  I 
entered  into  this  movement  without  any  idea  of  personal  aggrandizement. 
When,  in  1865,  I  bade  my  loving  friends  and  parents  good-b)e  in 
America,  and  came  to  Ireland,  I  was  fully  satisfied  with  the  thought 
that  I  was  coming  to  assist  in  the  liberation  of  an  enslaved  nation; 
and  I  knew  that  the  greatest  sacrifices  must  be  endured  on  our  paits 
before  the  country  could  be  raised  to  that  proud  position  which  is  so 
beautifully  described  by  the  national  poet  as — 

**  *  Great,  glorious,  and  free. 
First  flower  of  the  earth,  first  gem  of  the  sea. 

Well,  it  was  with  that  only  wish,  and  that  only  desire  I  came  to  Ire- 
land, feeling  that  to  realize  it  were  to  an  honest  man  a  greater  reward 
than  all  the  honors  and  riches  and  power  this  world  could  bestow.  I 
cannot  boast  of  learning,  my  lord  ;  I  have  not  had  much  opportunity 
of  cultivating  those  talents  with  which  Providence  may  have  blessed 
me.  Still  I  have  read  sufficient  of  the  world's  history  to  know  that 
no  people  ever  acquired  their  liberty  without  enormous  sacrifices — 
without  losing,  always,  I  may  say,  some  of  the  purest,  bravest,  and 
best  of  their  children.  Liberty,  if  worth  possessing,  is  surely  worth 
struggling  and  fighting  for,  and  in  this  struggle — of  which,  although 
the  crown-lawyers  and  the  government  of  England  think  they  have 
seen  the  end,  but  of  which  I  tell  them  they  have  not  yet  seen  the  com- 
menceraent — I  feel  that  enormouii  Jta^-rifices  must  be  made.     There* 


224  SFEECHBS  FROM    THE  DOCK, 

fore,  my  lord,  looking  straight  before  me  now,  I  say  I  was  determined 

and  was  quite  ready  to  sacrifice  my  life  if  necessary  to  acquire  that 
liberty  ;  and  I  am  not  now  going  to  be  so  mean-spirited,  so  cowardly, 
or  so  contemptible  as  to  shrink  from  my  portion  of  the  general  suf- 
fering. I  am  ready,  then,  for  the  sentence  of  the  court,  satisfied  that 
I  have  acted  right,  confident  that  I  have  committed  no  wrong,  outrage, 
or  crime  whatever,  and  that  I  have  cast  no  disgrace  upon  my  parents, 
my  friends,  upon  my  devoted  wife,  or  upon  myself.  I  am,  with  God's 
assistance,  ready  to  meet  my  fate.  I  rest  in  the  calm  resignation  of  a 
man  whose  only  ambition  through  life  has  been  to  benefit  and  free, 
not  to  injure,  his  fellow-men  ;  and  whose  only  desire  this  moment  is 
to  obtain  their  prayers  and  blessings.  With  the  approval  of  my  own 
conscience,  above  all  hoping  for  the  forgiveness  of  God  for  anything 
I  may  have  done  to  displease  Him,  and  relying  upon  His  self-sustain- 
ing grace  to  enable  me  to  bear  any  punishment,  no  matter  how  severe, 
so  long  as  it  is  for  glorious  old  Ireland.  I  had  intended,  my  lord,  to 
refer  to  my  notes,  which  I  took  at  the  trial  ;  but  I  feel  that  was  so 
ably  done  by  my  counsel,  it  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  time  for  me  to 
do  so,  but  I  just  wish  to  make  an  explanation.  Sir  C.  O'Loghlen 
made  a  statement — unintentionally,  I  am  sure  it  was,  on  his  part — 
which  may  or  may  not  affect  me.  He  said  I  sent  a  memorial  to  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  praying  to  be  released  from  custody.  I  wish  to  say 
I  sent  no  such  thing.  The  facts  of  the  matter  are  these  : — I  was  lib- 
erated in  this  court  because  in  reality  the  crown  could  not  make  out 
a  case  against  me  at  the  time  ;  and  as  I  could,  at  the  same  time,  be 
kept  in  prison  until  the  next  Assizes,  I,  on  consultation  with  my  friends 
and  with  my  fellow-captive,  Captain  M'Afferty,  consented,  as  soon  as 
I  should  receive  a  remittance  from  my  friends  in  America,  to  return 
there.  On  these  conditions  I  was  set  at  liberty,  understanding,  at  the 
same  time,  that  if  found  in  the  country  by  next  Assizes  I  would  be 
brought  up  for  trial.  I  did  not  want  to  give  annoyance,  and  I  said  I 
would  go  to  America.  I  honestly  intended  to  do  so  then — not,  how- 
ever, as  giving  up  my  principles,  but  because  I  saw  there  was  no  hope 
of  an  immediate  rising  in  Ireland.  While  agreeing  to  those  condi- 
tions, I  went  to  Dublin,  and  there  met  M'Afferty,  and  it  was  on  that 
occasion  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Corridon.  I  met  him  purely  ac- 
cidentally. He  afterwards  stated  that  he  saw  me  in  Liverpool,  but  he 
did  not  see  me  there.  I  went  over  with  an  object,  and  while  there  I 
was  arrested  by  anticipation,  before  the  habeas  corpus  act  was  really 
suspended.  I  defy  the  government  to  prove  I  had  any  connection 
with  Fenianism  from  the  time  I  was  released  from  Cork  jail  until  Feb- 
ruary, 1867.  I  was  afterwards  removed  to  Mountjoy  prison,  and, 
while  there,  Mr.  West  came  to  me  and  said  he  understood  I  was  an 
American  citizen,  and  asked  why  I  did  not  make  that  known.  I  said 
I  had  a  double  reason — first,  because  I  expected  the  crown  would  see 
they  had  broken  their  pledge  with  me  in  having  been  SO  soon  arrested ; 


SPEECHES  FROM    THE  DOCK. 


225 


and  also  that  I  expected  my  government  would  make  x  general  de- 
mand for  all  its  citizens.  By  Mr.  West's  desire  I  put  that  statement 
in  writing  ;  and  I  do  not  think  that  there  is  a  word  in  it  that  can  be 
construed  into  a  memorial  to  the  Lord-Lieutenant.  One  of  the  di- 
rectors of  the  prison  came  to  me  and  asked  me  was  I  content  to  com- 
ply with  the  former  conditions,  and  I  said  I  was.  I  was  liberated 
upon  those  conditions,  and  complied  with  them  ;  but  there  was  no 
condition  whatever  named  that  I  was  never  to  return  to  Ireland,  nor 
to  fight  for  Irish  independence.  At  that  time  I  would  sooner  have  re- 
mained in  prison  than  enter  into  any  such  compact.  Now,  with  ref- 
erence to  Corridon's  information.  He  states  he  met  me  in  Liverpool- 
after  the  rising,  and  I  stated  to  him  that  somebody  'sold  the  pass' 
upon  us — to  use  the  Irish  phrase. 

"  Now,  it  is  a  strange  thing,  my  lord,  that  he  got  some  information 
that  was  true,  and  I  really  was  in  Liverpool,  but  not  with  the  inform- 
er. The  fact  is,  the  month  previous  to  that,  I  knew,  and  so  did 
M'Afferty,  that  Corridon  had  sold  us.  We  left  instructions  at  Liver- 
pool to  have  him  watched,  but  owing  to  circumstances,  it  is  need- 
less now  to  refer  to,  that  was  not  attended  to,  and  he  came  afterwards 
to  Ireland  and  passed  as  a  Fenian,  and  the  parties  here,  not  knowing 
he  had  betrayed  them,  still  believed  in  him.  But  I  knew  very  well 
that  Corridon  had  betrayed  that  Chester  affair,  and  so  did  Captain 
M'Afferty  ;  and  if  I  had  met  him  at  that  time  in  Liverpool  I  don't 
think  it  would  be  him  I  would  inform  of  our  plans.  I  only  want  to 
show,  my  lord,  how  easily  an  informer  can  concoct  a  scene.  I  never 
in  my  life  attended  that  meeting  that  Corridon  swore  to.  All  his  de- 
positions with  respect  to  me  are  false.  I  did  meet  him  twice  in  Dublin, 
but  not  on  the  occasions  he  states.  I  wish  to  show  how  an  informer 
can  concoct  a  story  that  it  will  be  entirely  out  of  the  power  of  the  pris- 
oner to  contradict.  With  reference  to  the  witness  Curtin,  whom  I 
asked  to  have  produced — and  the  crown  did  produce  all  the  witnesses 
I  asked  for — your  lordship  seemed  to  be  under  the  impression  that  I 
did  not  produce  him  because  he  might  not  be  able  to  say  I  was  not 
in  his  house  that  night.  Now,  the  fact  is  that,  as  my  attorney  learned 
the  moment  Mr.  Curtin  was  brought  to  town,  he  knew  nothing  what- 
ever about  the  circumsta.nces,  as  he  was  not  in  his  own  tavern  that 
night  at  all.  That  was  why  I  did  not  produce  the  evidence.  But  I 
solemnly  declare  I  never  was  in  Curtin's  public-house  in  my  life  till 
last  summer,  when  I  went  in  with  a  friend  on  two  or  three  occasions, 
and  then  for  the  first  time.  That  must  have  been  in  June  or  July, 
after  the  trials  were  over  in  Dublin.  So  that  everything  Corridon  said 
in  connection  with  my  being  there  that  night  was  absolutely 
false.  'I  solemnly  dechire  I  was  never  there  till  some  time  last 
summer,  when  I  went  in  under  the  circumstances  I  have  stated.  In 
conclusion,  ray  lord,  though  it  may  not  be  exactly  in  accordance  with 
the  rules  of  the  court.  T  wish  to  return  your  lordship  my  most  sincere 


226  SPEECHES  FROM   THE   DOCK. 

thinks  for  your  fair  and  impartial  conduct  during  this  ♦^rial.  II 
there  was  anything  that  was  not  impartial  i  .  it  .  ^J,  I  consider  it 
was  only  in  my  favor,  and  not  in  favor  of  the  crown.  This  I  con- 
sider is  the  duty  of  a  judge,  and  what  every  -  dge  should  do — because 
the  prisoner  is  always  on  the  weak  side,  and  cannot  say  many  things 
he  would  wish,  while  the  crown,  on  the  other  hand,  have  all  the  power 
and  influence  that  the  law  and  a  full  exchequer  can  give  them.  I 
must  also  return  my  sincere  and  heartfelt  thanks  to  my  able  and  dis- 
tinguished counsel,  who  spoke  so  eloquently  in  my  favcr.  As  for 
Mr.  Collins,  I  feel  I  can  never  sufficiently  thank  him.  He  served  me 
on  my  trial  at  a  great  sacrifice  of  time  and  money,  with  noble  zeal 
and  devotion,  such  as  might  be  more  readily  expected  from  a  friend 
than  a  solicitor.  There  aie  many  more  I  would  like  to  thank  individ- 
ually, but  as  this  may  not  be  the  proper  time  and  place  to  do  so,  I  can 
only  thank  all  my  friends  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  I  may  men- 
tion the  name  at  least  of  Mr.  Joyce,  who,  in  the  jail,  showed  a  great 
deal  of  kind  feeling  and  attention.  And  now,  my  lord,  as  I  have  al- 
ready stated,  I  am  ready  for  my  sentence.  I  feel  rather  out  of  place  in 
this  dock  [the  prisoner  here  smiled  gently].  It  is  a  place  a  man  is 
very  seldom  placed  in,  and  even  if  he  is  a  good  speaker,  lie  might  be 
put  out  by  the  circumstance  of  having  to  utter  his  remarks  from  this 
place.  But  speaking  at  all  is  not  my  forte  ;  and  there  are  such  emo 
tions  filling  my  breast  at  this  moment  that  I  may  be  pardoned  for  not 
saying  all  I  would  wish.  My  heart  is  filled  with  thoughts  of  kind 
friends — near  at  hand  and  far  away — of  father  and  mother,  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  my  dear  wife.  Thoughts  of  these  fill  my  breast  -; 
this  moment,  and  check  my  utterance.  But  I  w?"  say  to  them,  thrt 
I  am  firmly  convinced  I  will  yet  live  to  see,  and  that  God  w'U  be 
graciously  pleased  in  His  own  good  time  to  order,  the  prosperity  and 
freedom  of  this  glorious  country.  I  would  only  repeat  the  powerful, 
touching,  and  simple  words  of  Michael  Larkin,  the  martyr  of  Man- 
chester, who,  in  parting  from  his  friends,  said,  'God  be  with  you, 
Irishmen  and  Irishwomen,'  and  the  burning  words  of  my  old  friend, 
Edward  O'Mara  Condon,  which  are  known  throughout  Ireland  and 
the  world,  '  God  save  Ireland  !'  And  I,  too,  would  say,  '  God  be 
with  you,  Irishmen  and  women  ;  God  save  you  ;  God  bless  Ireland'; 
and  God  grant  me  strength  to  bear  my  task  for  Ireland  as  becomes  a 
man.  Farewell  !'  [A  sound  of  some  females  sobbing  was  here  heard 
in  the  gallery.  Several  ladies  in  court,  too,  visibly  yielded  to  emotion 
at  this  point.  Perceiving  this  the  prisoner  continued]  : — My  lord,  if 
I  display  any  emotion  at  this  moment,  I  trust  it  will  not  be  construed 
into  anything  resembling  a  feeling  of  despair,  for  no  such  feeling  ani- 
mates me.  I  feel,  as  I  have  already  said,  confidence  in  God.  I  feel  that  I 
will  not  be  long  in  imprisonment;  therefore,  I  am  just  as  ready  to  meet 
my  fate  now  as  I  was  six  weeks  ago,  or  as  I  was  six  months  ago.  I  fee] 
confident  that  there  is  a  glorious  future  in  store  for  Ireland,  and  that^ 


SPEECHES  FROM  THE  DOCK.  227 

with  a  little  patience,  a  little  organization,  and  a  full  trust.  God 
on  the  part  of  the  Irish  people,  they  will  be  enabled  to  obtain  it  at 
no  distant  date." 

During  the  concluding  passages  of  this  address  many  persons 
sobbed  and  wept  in  various  parts  of  the  court.  At  its  close 
the  learned  judge,  in  language  that  was  really  gentle,  considerate, 
and  even  complimentary  towards  the  prisoner,  and  in  a  voice 
shaken  by  sincere  emotion,  declared  the  sentence  which  he  felt  it 
to  be  his  duty  to  impose.  It  was  penal  servitude  for  a  term  of 
twelve  years. 


•*GOD    SAVE    IRELAND." 


PART    I  I. 


THE 


DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD; 


THE 


MANCHESTER  TRAGEDY; 


AND 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  JACKMEL. 


•*  Far  dearer  the  grave  and  the  prison, 
lUum'ed  by  one  patriot's  name, 
Than  the  trophies  of  all  who  have  riseOf 
^1  liberty  s  ruins,  to  fame." 

MOOXB. 


NEW  YORK: 
P.  J.  KENEDY,  Excelsior  Catholic  publishing  House,  ";  Barclay  Streft. 


THE  DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLU 


THE  MANCHESTER  TRAGEDY. 


HE  23d  day  of  November,  1867,  witnessed  a  strange 
and  memorable  scene  in  the  great  English  city  of 
Manchester.  Long  ere  the  gray  winter's  morning 
struggled  in  through  the  crisp  frosty  air — long  ere 
the  first  gleam  of  the  coming  day  dulled  the  glare  of 
the  flaming  gas  jets,  the  streets  of  the  Lancashire 
capital  were  all  astir  with  bustling  crowds,  and  the  silence  of 
the  night  was  broken  by  the  ceaseless  footfalls  and  the  voices 
of  hurrying  throngs.  Through  the  long,  dim  streets,  and  past 
tall  rows  of  silent  houses,  the  full  tide  of  life  eddied  and 
poured  in  rapid  current ;  stout  burghers,  closely  muffled  and 
staff  in  hand ;  children  grown  prematurely  old,  with  the  hard 
marksof  vice  already  branded  on  their  features;  young  girls  with 
flaunting  ribbons,  and  bold,  flushed  faces;  pale  operatives,  and 
stronc^  men  whose  brawny  limbs  told  of  the  Titanic  labors  of 
the  foundry;  the  clerk  from  his  desk;  the  shopkeeper  from 
his  store  ;  the  withered  crone,  and  the  careless  navvy,  swayed 
and  struggled  through  the  living  mass ;  and  with  them  trooped 
the  legions  of  want,  and  vice,  and  ignorance,  that  burrow  and 
fester  in  the  foetid  lanes  and  purlieus  of  the  large  British 
cities ;  from  the  dark  alleys  where  misery  and  degradation  for- 
ever dwell,  and  from  reeking  cellars  and  nameless  haunts, 
where  the  twin  demons  of  alcohol  and  crime  rule  supreme; 
from  the  gin-palace  and  the  beer-shop,  and  the  midnight  haunts 
of  the  tramp  and  the  burglar,  they  came  in  all  their  repulsive- 
ness  and  debasement,  with  the  rags  of  wretchedness  upon  their 

233 


234  THE    DOCK   AND     THE    SCAFFOLD. 

backsj  and  the  cries  of  profanity  and  obscenity  upon  their  lips. 
Forward  they  rushed  in  a  surging  flood  through  many  a  street 
and  byway,  until  where  the  narrowing  thoroughfares  open  into 
the  space  surrounding  the  New  Bailey  prison,  in  that  suburb 
of  the  great  city  known  as  the  Borough  of  Salford,  they  found 
their  further  progress  arrested.  Between  them  and  the  mas- 
sive prison  walls  rose  piles  of  heavy  barricading,  and  the  inter- 
vening  space  was  black  with  a  dense  body  of  men,  all  of  whom 
faced  the  gloomy  building  beyond,  and  each  of  whom  carried 
a  special  constable's  baton  in  his  hand.  The  long  railway 
bridge  running  close  by  was  occupied  by  a  detachment  of  in- 
fantry, and  from  the  parapet  of  the  frowning  walls  the  muzzle 
of  cannon,  trained  on  the  space  below,  might  be  dimly  dis- 
cerned in  the  darkness.  But  the  crowd  paid  little  attention  to 
these  extraordinary  appearances ;  their  eyes  were  riveted  on 
the  black  projection  which  jutted  from  the  prison  wall,  and 
which,  shrouded  in  dark  drapery,  loomed  with  ghastly  signifi- 
cance through  the  haze.  Rising  above  the  scaffold,  which  re- 
placed a  portion  of  the  prison  wall,  the  outlines  of  a  gibbet 
were  descried  ;  and  from  the  cross-beam  there  hun^  three 
ropes,  terminating  in  nooses,  just  perceptible  above  the  upper 
edge  of  the  curtain  which  extended  thence  to  the  ground.  The 
grim  excrescence  seemed  to  possess  a  horrible  fascination  for 
the  multitude.  Those  in  position  to  see  it  best  stirred  not 
from  their  post,  but  faced  the  fatal  cross-tree,  the  motionless 
ropes,  the  empty  platform,  with  an  untiring,  an  insatiable 
gaze,  that  seemed  pregnant  with  some  terrible  meaning,  while 
the  mob  behind  them  struggled,  and  pushed,  and  raved,  and 
fought ;  and  the  haggard  hundreds  of  gaunt,  diseased,  stricken 
wretches,  that  vainly  contested  with  the  stronger  types  of  ruf- 
fianism for  a  place,  loaded  the  air  with  their  blasphemies  and 
imprecations.  The  day  broke  slowly  and  doubtfully  upon  the 
scene ;  a  dense,  yellow,  murky  fog  floated  round  the  spot, 
wrapping  in  its  opaque  folds  the  hideous  gallows  and  the 
frowning  mass  of  masonry  behind.  An  hour  passed,  and  then 
a  hoarse  murmur  swelled  upwards  from  the  glistening  rows  of 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  235 

Upturned  faces.  The  platfomi  was  no  longer  empty  ;  three 
pinioned  men,  with  white  caps  drawn  closely  over  their  faces, 
were  standing  upon  the  drop.  For  a  moment  the  crowd  was 
awed  into  stillness;  for  a  moment  the  responses,  "Christ,  have 
mercy  on  us,"  ''Christ,  have  mercy  on  us,"  were  heard  from 
the  lips  of  the  doomed  men,  towards  whom  the  sea  of  faces 
were  turned.  Then  came  a  dull  crash,  and  the  mob  swayed 
backwards  for  an  instant.  The  drop  had  fallen,  and  the  vic- 
tims were  struggling  in  the  throes  of  a  horrible  death.  The 
ropes  jerked  and  swayed  with  the  convulsive  movements  of 
the  dying  men.  A  minute  later,  and  the  vibrations  ceased — • 
the  end  had  come,  the  swaying  limbs  fell  rigid  and  stark,  and 
the  souls  of  the  strangled  men  had  floated  upwards  from  the 
cursed  spot — up  from  the  hateful  crowds  and  the  sin-laden  at- 
mosphere— to  the  throne  of  the  God  who  made  them. 

So  perished,  in  the  bloom  of  manhood,  and  the  flower  of 
their  strength,  three  gallant  sons  of  Ireland — so  passed  away 
the  last  of  the  martyred  band  whose  blood  has  sanctified  the 
cause  of  Irish  freedom.  Far  from  the  friends  whom  they  loved, 
far  from  the  land  for  which  they  suffered,  wath  the  scarlet-clad 
hirelings  of  England  around  them,  and  watched  by  the  wolfish 
eyes  of  a  brutal  mob,  who  thirsted  to  see  them  die,  the  daunt- 
less patriots,  who,  in  our  own  day,  have  rivalled  the  heroism 
and  shared  the  fate  of  Tone,  Emmet,  and  Fitzgerald,  looked 
their  last  upon  the  world.  No  prayer  was  breathed  for  their 
parting  souls — no  eye  was  moistened  with  regret  amongst  the 
multitude  that  stretched  away  in  compact  bodies  from  the  foot 
of  the  gallows  ;  the  ribald  laugh  and  the  blasphemous  oath 
united  with  their  dying  breath  ;  and,  callously  as  the  Roman 
mob  from  the  blood-stained  amphitheatre,  the  English  masses 
turned  homewards  from  the  fatal  spot.  But  they  did  not  fall 
unhonored  or  unwept.  In  the  churches  of  the  faithful  in  that 
same  city,  the  sobs  of  mournful  lamentation  were  mingled  with 
the  solemn  prayers  for  their  eternal  rest,  and,  from  thousands 
of  wailing  women  and  stricken-hearted  men,  the  prayers  fof 
mercy,  pca^,  and  pardon,  for  the  souls  of  MICHAEL  O'BRIEN, 


236  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

William  Phil:?  Allen,  and  Michael  LARKiN,rose  upwards 
to  the  avenging  God.  Still  less  were  they  forgotten  at  home. 
Throughout  the  Irish  land,  from  Antrim's  rocky  coast  to  the 
foam-beaten  headlands  of  Cork,  the  hearts  of  their  countrymen 
were  convulsed  with  passionate  grief  and  indignation,  and, 
blended  with  the  sharp  cry  of  agony  that  broke  from  the  na- 
tion's lips,  came  the  murmurs  of  defiant  hatred,  and  the  pledges 
of  a  bitter  vengeance.  Never,  for  generations,  had  the  minds 
of  the  Irish  people  been  more  profoundly  agitated — never  had 
they  writhed  in  such  bitterness  and  agony  of  soul.  With  knit- 
ted  brows  and  burning  cheeks,  the  tidings  of  the  bloody  deed 
were  listened  to.  The  names  of  the  martyred  men  were  upon 
every  lip,  and  the  story  of  their  heroism  and  tragic  death  was 
read  with  throbbing  pulse  and  kindling  eyes  by  every  fireside 
in  the  land.  It  is  to  assist  in  perpetuating  that  story,  and  in 
recording  for  future  generations  the  narratave  which  tells  of  how 
Allen,  O'Brien,  and  Larkin  died,  that  this  narrative  is  written, 
and  few  outside  the  nation  whose  hands  are  red  with  their  blood, 
will  deny  that  at  least  so  much  recognition  is  due  to  their 
courage,  their  patriotism,  and  their  fidelity.  In  Ireland  we 
know  it  will  be  welcomed  ;  amongst  a  people  by  whom  chivalry 
and  patriotism  are  honored,  a  story  so  touching  and  so  ennobling 
will  not  be  despised ;  and  the  race  which  guards  with  rever- 
ence and  devotion  the  memories  of  Tone,  and  Emmet,  and 
Shearses,  will  not  soon  surrender  to  oblivion  the  memory  of 
the  three  true-hearted  patriots,  who,  heedless  of  the  scowling 
mob,  unawed  by  the  hangman's  grasp,  died  bravely  that  Satur- 
day morning,  at  Manchester,  for  the  good  old  cause  of  Ireland. 
Early  before  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  November  nth, 
1867.  the  policemen  on  duty  in  Oak  Street,  Manchester,. noticed 
four  broad-shouldered,  muscular  men  loitering  in  a  suspicious 
manner  about  the  shop  of  a  clothes-dealer  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Some  remarks  dropped  by  one  of  the  party  reaching 
the  ears  of  the  policemen,  strengthened  their  impression  that 
an  illegal  enterprise  was  on  foot,  aad  the  arrest  of  the  supposed 
burglars  was  resolved  on.     A  struggle  ensued,  during  which 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  23/ 

two  of  the  suspects  succeeded  in  escaping,  but  the  remaining 
pair,  after  offering  a  determined  resistance,  were  overpowered 
and  carried  off  to  the  police  station.  The  prisoners,  who,  on 
being  searched,  were  found  to  possess  loaded  revolvers  on  their 
persons,  gave  their  names  as  Martin  Williams  and  John  Whyte, 
and  were  charged  under  the  vagrancy  act  before  one  of  the  city 
magistrates.  They  declared  themselves  American  citizens,  and 
claimed  their  discharge.  Williams  said  he  was  a  bookbinder, 
out  of  work;  Whyte  described  himself  as  a  hatter,  living  on 
the  means  brought  with  him  from  America.  The  magistrate 
was  about  disposing  summarily  of  the  case,  by  sentencing  the 
men  to  a  few  days'  imprisonment,  when  a  detective  officer  applied 
for  a  remand,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  reason  to  believe  the 
prisoners  were  connected  with  the  Fenian  conspiracy.  The 
application  was  granted,  and  before  many  hours  had  elapsed  it 
was  ascertained  that  Martin  Williams  was  no  other  than  Colonel 
Thomas  J.  Kelly,  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  the(0'Mahony- 
Stephens)  Fenian  leaders,  and  that  John  Whyte  was  a 
brother  officer  and  conspirator,  known  to  the  circles  of  the 
Fenian  Brotherhood  as  Captain  Deasey. 

Of  the  men  who  had  thus  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  the 
British  government  the  public  had  already  heard  much,  and 
one  of  them  was  widely  known  for  the  persistency  with  which  he 
labored  as  an  organizer  of  Fenianism,  and  the  daring  and  skill 
which  he  exhibited  in  the  pursuit  of  his  dangerous  undertaking. 
Long  before  the  escape  of  James  Stephens  from  Richmond 
bridewell  startled  the  government  from  its  visions  of  security, 
and  swelled  the  breasts  of  their  disaffected  subjects  in  Ireland 
with  rekindled  hopes.  Colonel  Kelly  was  known  in  the  Fenian 
ranks  as  an  intimate  associate  of  the  revolutionary  chief. 
When  the  arrest  at  Fairfield-house  deprived  the  organization 
of  its  crafty  leader,  Kelly  was  elected  to  the  vacant  post,  and 
he  threw  himself  into  the  work  with  all  the  reckless  energy  of 
his  nature.  If  he  could  not  be  said  to  possess  the  mental  abil- 
ity or  administrative  capacity  essential  to  the  office,  he  was  at 
least  gifted   with  a  variety   of  other  qualifications  well  cal 


238  ^^^  DOCK  AND   THE   SCAFFOLD. 

culated  to  recommend  him  to  popularity  amongst  the  des. 
perate  men  with  whom  he  was  associated.  Nor  did  he  prove 
altogether  unworthy  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him.  It  is 
now  pretty  well  known  that  the  successful  plot  for  the  libera- 
tion of  James  Stephens  was  executed  under  the  personal  sup- 
ervision of  Colonel  Kelly,  and  that  he  was  one  of  the  group 
of  friends  who  grasped  the  hand  of  the  Head  Centre  within 
the  gates  of  Richmond  prison  on  that  night  in  November,  1865, 
when  the  doors  of  his  dungeon  were  thrown  open.  Kelly 
fled  with  Stephens  to  Paris,  and  thence  to  America,  where  he 
remained  attached  to  the  section  of  the  Brotherhood  which 
recognized  the  authority  and  obeyed  the  mandates  of  the  "  C. 
O.I.R."  But  the  time  came  when  even  Colonel  Kelly  and 
his  party  lost  confidence  in  the  leadership  of  James  Stephens. 
The  chief  whom  they  had  so  long  trusted,  but  who  had  disap- 
pointed them  by  the  non-fulfilment  of  his  engagement  to  fight 
on  Irish  soil  before  January,  1867,  was  deposed  by  the  last  sec- 
tion of  his  adherents,  and  Colonel  Kelly  was  elected  "Deputy 
Central  Organizer  of  the  Irish  Republic,"  on  the  distinct  under- 
standing that  he  was  to  follow  out  the  policy  which  Stephens 
had  shrunk  from  pursuing.  Kelly  accepted  the  post,  and  de- 
voted himself  earnestly  to  the  work.  In  America  he  met  with 
comparatively  little  co-operation  ;  the  bulk  of  the  Irish  Nation- 
alists in  that  country  had  long  ranged  themselves  under  the 
leadership  of  Colonel  W.  R.  Roberts,  an  Irish  gentleman  of 
character  and  integrity,  who  became  the  president  of  the  re- 
constituted organization ;  and  the  plans  and  promises  of  the 
"  Chatham  Street  wing/*  as  the  branch  of  the  Brotherhood 
which  ratified  Colonel  Kelly's  election  was  termed,  were  re- 
garded, for  the  most  part,  with  suspicion  and  disfavor.  But 
from  Ireland  there  came  evidences  of  a  different  state  of  feeling. 
Breathless  envoys  arrived  almost  weekly  in  New  York,  declar- 
ing that  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  in  Ireland  were  burning  for 
the  fray — that  they  awaited  the  landing  of  Colonel  Kelly  with 
feverish  impatience — that  it  would  be  impossible  to  restrain 
them  much  longer  from  fighting— and  that  the  arrival  of  the 


THE   DOCft  AND    THE    SCAEFOLD.  239 

military  leaders,  whom  America  was  expected  to  supply,  would 
be  the  signal  for  a  general  uprising.  Encouraged  by  represen- 
tations like  these.  Colonel  Kelly  and  a  chosen  body  of  Irish 
American  officers  departed  for  Ireland  in  January,  and  set  them- 
selves, on  their  arrival  in  the  old  country,  to  arrange  the  plans 
of  the  impending  outbreak.  How  their  labors  eventuated,  and 
how  the  Fenian  insurrection  of  Mirch,  1867,  resulted,  it  is 
unnecessary  to  explain  ;  it  is  enough  for  our  purpose  to  state 
that  for  several  months  after  that  ill-starred  movement  was 
crushed.  Colonel  Kelly  continued  to  reside  in  Dublin,  moving 
about  with  an  absence  of  disguise  and  disregard  for  conceal- 
ment which  astonished  his  confederates,  but  which,  perhaps, 
contributed  in  no  slight  degree  to  the  success  with  which  he 
eluded  the  efforts  directed  towards  his  capture.  At  length  the 
Fenian  organization  in  Ireland  began  to  pass  through  the  same 
changes  that  had  given  it  new  leaders  and  fresh  vitality  in 
America.  The  members  of  the  organization  at  home  began  to 
long  for  union  with  the  Irish  Nationalists  who  formed  the 
branch  of  the  confederacy  regenerated  under  Colonel  Roberts  ; 
and  Kelly  who,  for  various  reasons,  was  unwilling  to  accept  the 
new  regime,  saw  his  adherents  dwindle  away,  until  at  length  he 
found  himself  all  but  discarded  by  the  Fenian  circles  in  Dublin. 
Then  he  crossed  over  to  Manchester,  where  he  arrived  but  a 
few  weeks  previous  to  the  date  of  his  accidental  arrest  in  Oak 
Street. 

The  arrest  of  Colonel  Kelly  and  his  aide-de-camp,  as  the 
English  papers  soon  learned  to  describe  Deasey,  was  hailed 
by  the  government  with  the  deepest  satisfaction.  For  years 
they  had  seen  their  hosts  of  spies,  detectives,  and  informers 
foiled  and  outwitted  by  this  daring  conspirator,  whose  posi- 
tion in  the  Fenian  ranks  they  perfectly  understood;  they  had 
seen  their  traps  evaded,  their  bribes  spurned,  and  their  plans 
defeated  at  every  turn  ;  they  knew,  too,  that  Kelly's  success 
in  escaping  capture  was  filling  his  associates  with  pride  and 
exultation ;  and  now  at  last  they  found  the  man  whose  appre- 
hension they  so  anxiously  desired  a  captive  in  their  graspii 


240  THE   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

On  the  other  hand,  the  arrests  in  Oak  Street  were  felt  to  be  a 
crushing  blow  to  a  failing  cause  by  the  Fenian  circles  in  Man- 
chester. They  saw  that  Kelly's  capture  would  dishearten 
every  section  of  the  organization ;  they  knew  that  the  broad 
meaning  of  the  occurrence  was,  that  another  Irish  rebel  had 
fallen  into  the  clutches  of  the  British  government,  and  was 
about  to  be  added  to  the  long  list  of  their  political  victims.  It 
was  felt  by  the  Irish  in  Manchester,  to  abandon  the  prisoners 
helplessly  to  their  fate  would  be  regarded  as  an  act  of  submis- 
sion to  the  laws  which  rendered  patriotism  a  crime,  and  as  an 
acceptance  of  the  policy  which  left  Ireland  trampled,  bleeding, 
and  impoverished.  There  were  hot  spirits  amongst  the  Irish 
colony  that  dwelt  in  the  great  industrial  capital,  which  revolted 
from  such  a  conclusion,  and  there  were  warm,  impulsive  hearts 
which  swelled  with  a  firm  resolution  to  change  the  triumph  of 
their  British  adversaries  into  disappointment  and  consternation. 
The  time  has  not  yet  come  when  anything  like  a  description  of 
the  midnight  meetings  and  secret  councils  which  followed  the 
arrest  of  Colonel  Kelly  in  Manchester  can  be  written ;  enough 
may  be  gathered,  however,  from  the  result,  to  show  that 
the  plans  of  the  conspirators  were  cleverly  conceived  and  ably 
digested. 

On  Wednesday,  September  i8th.  Colonel  Kelly  and  his  com- 
panion were  a  second  time  placed  in  the  dock  of  the  Manches- 
ter police  office.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  means  had 
previously  been  found  of  acquainting  them  with  the  plans  of 
their  friends  outside,  but  this  hypothesis  is  not  necessary  to 
explain  the  coolness  and  sang  froid  with  which  they  listened  to 
the  proceedings  before  the  magistrate.  Hardly  had  the  prisoners 
been  put  forward,  when  the  Chief  Inspector  of  the  Manchester 
Detective  force  interposed.  They  are  both,  he  said,  connected 
with  the  Fenian  rising,  and  warrants  were  out  against  them  for 
treason-felony.  "  Williams,"  he  added,  with  a  triumphant  air, 
"  is  Colonel  Kelly,  and  Whyte,  his  confederate,  is  Captain 
Deasey."  He  asked  that  they  might  again  be  remanded,  an 
application  which  was  immediately  granted.     The  prisoners, 


THE   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


241 


who  imperturbably  bowed  to  the  detective,  as  he  identified 
them,  smilingly  quitted  the  dock,  and  were  given  in  charge  to 
Police  Sergeant  Charles  Brett,  whose  duty  it  was  to  convey 
them  to  the  borough  gaol. 

The  van  used  for  the  conveyance  of  prisoners  between  the 
police  ofifice  and  the  gaol  was  one  of  the  ordinary  long  black 
boxes  on  wheels,  dimly  lit  by  a  grating  in  the  door,  and  a 
couple  of  ventilators  in  the  roof.  It  was  divided  interiorly 
into  a  row  of  small  cells  at  either  side,  and  a  passage  running 
the  length  of  the  van  between  ;  and  the  practice  was,  to  lock 
each  prisoner  into  a  separate  cell,  Brett  sitting  in  charge  on  a 
seat  in  the  passage,  near  the  door.  The  van  was  driven  by  a 
policeman ;  another  usually  sat  beside  the  driver  on  the  box ; 
the  whole  escort  thus  consisting  of  three  men,  carrying  no  other 
arms  than  their  staves ;  but  it  was  felt  that  on  the  present  oc. 
casion  a  stronger  escort  might  be  necessary.  The  magistrates 
well  knew  that  Kelly  and  Deasey  had  numerous  sympathizers 
amongst  the  Irish  residents  in  Manchester,  and  their  apprehen- 
sions were  quickened  by  the  receipt  of  a  telegram  from  Dub- 
lin Castle,  and  another  from  the  Home  Ofifice  in  London,  warn- 
ing them  that  a  plot  was  on  foot  for  the  liberation  of  the  pris- 
oners. The  magistrate  doubted  the  truth  of  the  information, 
but  they  took  precautions,  nevertheless,  for  the  frustration  of 
any  such  enterprise.  Kelly  and  Deasey  were  both  handcuffed, 
and  locked  in  separate  compartments  of  the  van ;  and,  instead 
of  three  policemen,  not  less  than  twelve  were  entrusted  with 
its  defence.  Of  this  body,  five  sat  on  the  box-seat,  two  were 
stationed  on  the  step  behind,  four  followed  the  van  in  a  cab, 
and  one  (Sergeant  Brett)  sat  within  the  van,  the  keys  of  which 
were  handed  into  him  through  the  grating,  after  the  door  had 
been  locked  by  one  of  the  policemen  outside.  There  were,  in 
all,  six  persons  in  the  van  ;  one  of  these  was  a  boy,  aged  twelve, 
who  was  being  conveyed  to  a  reformatory;  three  were  women 
convicted  of  misdemeanors;  and  the  two  Irish-Americans  com- 
pleted the  number.  Only  the  last-mentioned  pair  were  hand- 
sniffed,  and  they  were  the  only  persons  whom  the  constables 


242  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

thought  necessary  to  lock  up,  the  compartments  in  which  the 
other  persons  sat  being  left  open. 

At  half-past  three  o'clock  the  van  drove  off,  closely  followed 
by  the  cab  containing  the  balance  of  the  escort.  Its  route  lay 
through  some  of  the  principal  streets,  then  through  the  suburbs 
on  the  south  side,  into  the  borough  of  Salford,  where  the 
county  gaol  is  situated.  In  all  about  two  miles  had  to  be 
traversed,  and  of  this  distance  the  first  half  was  accomplished 
without  anything  calculated  to  excite  suspicion  being  observed  ; 
but  there  was  mischief  brewing,  for  all  that,  and  the  crisis  was 
close  at  hand.  Just  as  the  van  passed  under  the  railway  arch 
that  spans  the  Hyde  road  at  Bellevue,  a  point  midway  between 
the  city  police  office  and  the  Salford  gaol,  the  driver  was  sud- 
denly startled  by  the  apparition  of  a  man  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  road  with  a  pistol  aimed  at  his  head,  and  immediately  the 
astonished  policeman  heard  himself  called  upon,  in  a  loud,  sharp 
voice,  to  "pull  up."  At  the  spot  where  this  unwelcome  inter- 
ruption occurred  there  are  but  few  houses ;  brick-fields  and 
clay-pits  stretch  away  at  either  side,  and  the  neighborhood  is 
thinly  inhabited.  But  its  comparative  quiet  now  gave  way  to 
a  scene  of  bustle  and  excitement  so  strange  that  it  seems  to 
have  almost  paralyzed  the  spectators  with  amazement.  The 
peremptory  command  levelled  at  the  driver  of  the  van  was 
hardly  uttered,  when  a  body  of  men,  numbering  about  thirty, 
swarmed  over  the  wall  which  lined  the  road,  and  surrounding 
the  van,  began  to  take  effectual  measures  for  stopping  it.  The 
majority  of  them  were  well-dressed  men,  of  powerful  appear- 
ance;  a  few  carried  pistols  or  revolvers  in  their  hands,  and  all 
seemed  to  act  in  accordance  with  a  preconcerted  plan.  The 
first  impulse  of  the  policeman  in  front  appears  to  have  been  to 
drive  through  the  crowd,  but  a  shot,  aimed  in  the  direction  of 
his  head,  brought  the  driver  tumbling  from  his  seat,  terror- 
stricken,  but  unhurt;  and  almost  at  the  same  time,  the  further 
progress  of  the  van  was  effectually  prevented  by  shooting  one 
of  the  horses  through  the  neck.  A  scene  of  indescribable  con- 
fusion ensued ;  the  policemen  scrambled  hastily  to  the  ground. 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,      - 


243 


and  betook  themselves  to  flight,  almost  without  a  thought  ^of 
resistance.  Those  i<i  the  cab  got  out,  not  to  resist  the  attack, 
but  to  help  the  running  away;  and  in  a  few  minutes,  the 
strangers,  whose  object  had  by  this  time  become  perfectly  ap- 
parent, were  undisputed  masters  of  the  situation.  Pickaxes, 
hatchets,  hammers,  and  crowbars,  were  instantly  produced,  and 
the  van  was  besieged  by  a  score  stout  pairs  of  arms,  under  the 
blow^  from  which  its  sides  groaned,  and  the  door  cracked  and 
splintered.  Some  clambered  upon  the  roof,  and  attempted  to 
smash  it  in  with  heavy  stones  ;  others  tried  to  force  an  opening 
through  the  side ;  while  the  door  was  sturdily  belaborec  by 
another  division  of  the  band.  Seeing  the  Fenians,  as  they  at 
once  considered  them,  thus  busily  engaged,  the  policemen,  who 
had  in  the  first  instance  retreated  to  a  safe  distance,  and  who 
were  now  reinforced  by  a  large  mob  attracted  to  the  spot  by 
the  report  of  fire-arms,  advanced  towards  the  van  with 
the  intention  i .'  offering  some  resistance;  but  the  storm- 
ing party  immediat«_ly  met  them  with  a  counter  move- 
ment. Whilst  the  attempt  to  smash  through  the  van  was 
continued  without  pause,  a  ring  was  formed  round  the  men 
ti.  IS  engaged  by  their  confederates,  who,  pointing  their  pistols 
at  the  advancing  crowd,  warned  them,  as  they  valued  their 
lives  to  keep  off.  Gaining  courage  from  their  rapidly-swelling 
numbers;  the  mob,  however,  continued  to  close  in  round  the  van, 
wher^^upon  several  shots  were  discharged  by  the  Fenians,  which 
had  ti-.e  effect  of  making  the  Englishmen  again  fall  back  in 
confusion.  It  is  c/'rtain  that  these  shots  were  discharged  for  no 
other  purpose  than  that  of  frightening  the  crowd  ;  one  of  them 
did  take  effect  in  the  heel  of  a  bystander,  but  in  every  other 
case  the  shots  were  fired  high  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd. 

While  this  had  been  passing  around  the  van,  a  more  tragic 
scene  was  passing  inside  it.  From  the  moment  the  report  of 
the  first  shot  reached  him.  Sergeant  Brett  seems  to  have  di- 
vined the  nature  and  object  of  the  attack.  "  My  God  !  it's 
these  Fenians,"  he  exclaimed.  The  noise  of  the  blows  show- 
sred  on  the  roof  and  sides  of  the  van  was  increased  by  the 


244  ^^^  />0C^  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

slirieks  of  the  female  prisoners,  who  rushed  frantically  into  the 
passage,  and  made  the  van  resound  with  their  wailings.  In  the 
midst  of  the  tumult  a  face  appeared  at  the  grating,  and  Brett 
heard  himself  summoned  to  give  up  the  keys.  The  assailants 
had  discovered  where  they  were  kept,  and  resolved  on  obtain- 
ing them  as  the  speediest  way  of  effecting  their  purpose. 
*' Give  up  the  keys,  or  they  will  shoot  you,"  exclaimed  the 
women ;  but  Brett  refused.  The  next  instant  he  fell  heavily 
backwards,  with  the  hot  blood  welling  from  a  bullet-wound  in 
the  he-ad.  A  shot  fired  into  the  keyhole,  for  the  purpose  of 
blowing  the  lock  to  pieces,  had  taken  effect  in  his  temple. 
The  terror-stricken  women  lifted  him  up,  screaming,  '*he's 
killed."  As  they  did  so,  the  voice  which  had  been  heard  be- 
fore called  cut  to  them  through  the  ventilator  to  give  up  the 
keys.  One  of  the  women  then  took  them  from  the  pocket  of 
the  dying  policeman,  and  handed  them  out  through  the  trap. 
The  door  was  at  once  unlocked,  the  terrified  women  rushed  out, 
and  Brett,  weltering  in  blood,  rolled  out  heavily  upon  the  road. 
Then  a  pale-faced  young  man,  wearing  a  light  overcoat,  a  blue 
tie,  and  a  tall  brown  hat,  who  had  been  noticed  taking  a  prom- 
inent part  in  the  affray,  entered  the  van,  and  unlocked  the  com- 
partments in  which  Kelly  and  Deasey  were  confined.  A  hasty 
greeting  passed  between  them,  and  then  the  trio  hurriedly 
joined  the  band  outside.  "  I  told  you,  Kelly,  I  would  die  be- 
fore I  parted  with  you,"  cried  the  young  man  who  had  unlocked 
the  doors;  then,  seizing  Kelly  by  the  arm,  he  helped  him  across 
the  road,  and  over  the  wall,  into  the  brick-fields  beyond.  Here 
he  was  taken  charge  of  by  others  of  the  party,  who  hurried 
with  him  across  the  country,  while  a  similar  office  was  per- 
formed for  Deasey,  who,  like  Colonel  Kelly,  found  himself 
hampered  to  some  extent  by  the  handcuffs  on  his  wrists.  The 
main  body  of  those  who  had  shared  in  the  assault  occupied 
themselves  with  preventing  the  fugitives  from  being  pursued ; 
and  not  until  Kelly,  Deasey,  and  their  conductors  had  passed 
far  out  of  sight,  did  they  think  of  consulting  their  own  safety. 
At  length,  when  further  resistance  to  the  mob  seemed  useless 

r 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE  SCAFFOLD,  245 

and  impossible,  they  broke  and  fled,  some  of  them  occasionally 
checking  the  pursuit  b  •  turning  round  and  presenting  pistohi 
at  those  who   followed.     Many  of  the   fugitives  escaped,  but 
several   others  were  surrounded   and   overtaken  by  the  moU 
And  now  the  "chivalry**  of  the  English  nature  came  out  in  its 
real  colors.     No  sooner  did  the  cowardly  set,  whom  the  sight 
of  a  revolver  kept  at  bay  while  Kelly  was  being  liberated,  find 
themselves  with  some  of  the  Irish  party  in  their  power,  than 
they  set  themselves  to  beat  them  with  savage  ferocity.     The 
young  fellow  who  had  opened  the  van  door,  and  who  had  been 
overtaken  by  the  mob,  was  knocked  down  by  a  blow  of  a  brick, 
and  then  brutally  kicked  and  stoned,  the  only  Englishman  who 
ventured  to  cry  out  shame,  being  himself  assaulted  for  his  dis- 
play of  humanity.     Several   others  were  similarly  ill-treated; 
and   not  until  the  blood   spouted   out   fiom   the  bruised  and 
mangled  bodies  of  the  prostrate  men,  did  the  valiant  English- 
men   consider    they   had    sufficiently    tortured    their    helpless 
prisoners.     Meanwhile,  large  reinforcements  appeared  on  the 
spot;  police  and   military  were  dispatched   in  eager  haste  in 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives ;  the  telegraph  was  called  into  requisi- 
tion, and  a  description  of  the  liberated   Fenians  flashed  to  the 
neighboring  towns  ;  the  whole  detective  force  of  Manchester 
was  placed  on   their  trail,  and   In  the  course  of  a  few  hours 
thirty-two  Irishmen  were  in  custody,  charged  with  having  as- 
sisted in  the  attack  on  the  van.     But  of  Kelly  or  Deasey  no 
trace  was  ever  discovered ;  they  were  seen  to  enter  a  cottage 
not  far  from  the   Hyde  road,  and  leave  it  with  their  hands  un- 
/ettered,  but  all  attempts  to  trace  their  movements  beyond  this 
utterly  failed.     While  the  authorities  In  Manchester  were  ex- 
citedly discussing  the  means  to  be  adopted  in  view  of  the  ex- 
traordinary event,  Brett  lay  expiring  in  the   hospital  to  which 
he  had   been   conveyed.     He   never   recovered    consciousness 
after  receiving  the  wound,  and  he  died  in  less  than  two  hours 
after  the  fatal  shot  had  been  fired. 

Darkness  had  closed  in  around  Manchester  before  the  start- 
ling occurrence  that  had  taken  place  in  their  midst  became 

1 


\ 

246  THE  DOCr  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

known  to  the  majority  of  its  inhabitants.  Swiftly  the  tidings 
fled  throughout  the  city,  till  the  whisper  in  which  the  rumor 
was  first  breathed  swelled  into  a  roar  of  astonishment  and  rage. 
Leaving  their  houses,  and  leaving  their  work,  the  people  rushed 
into  the  streets,  and  trooped  towards  the  newspaper  offices  for 
information.  The  rescue  of  Colonel  Kelly  and  death  of  Ser- 
geant Brett  were  described  in  thousands  of  conflicting  narra- 
tives, until  the  fact  almost  disappeared  beneath  the  mass  of 
inventions  and  exaggerations,  the  creations  of  excitement  and 
panic,  with  which  they  were  overloaded.  Meanwhile,  the 
police,  maddened  by  resentment  and  agitation,  struck  only 
wildly  and  blindly  at  the  Irish.  They  might  not  be  able  to  re, 
capture  the  escaped  Fenian  leaders,  but  they  could  load  the 
gaols  with  their  countrymen  and  co-religionists;  they  might 
not  be  able  to  apprehend  the  liberators  of  Colonel  Kelly  and 
Captain  Deasey,  but  they  could  glut  their  fury  on  members  of 
the  same  nationality;  and  this  they  did  most  effectually.  The 
whole  night  long  the  raid  upon  the  Irish  quarter  in  Manchester 
was  continued ;  houses  were  broken  into,  and  their  occupants 
dragged  off  to  the  prison,  and  flung  into  cells,  chained  as 
though  they  were  raging  beasts.  Mere  Irish  were  set  upon 
in  the  streets,  in  the  shops,  in  their  homes,  and  hurried  off  to 
prison,  as  if  the  very  existence  of  the  empire  depended  on  their 
being  subjected  to  every  kind  of  brutal  violence  and  indignity. 
The  yell  for  vengeance  filled  the  air ;  the  cry  for  Irish  blood 
arose  upon  the  night-air  like  a  demoniacal  chorus ;  and  before 
morning  broke  their  fury  was  somewhat  appeased  by  the 
knowledge  that  sixty  of  the  proscribed  race — sixty  of  the 
hated  Irish — were  lying  chained  within  the  prison  cells  of 
Manchester. 

Fifteen  minutes  was  the  time  occupied  in  setting  Kelly  free 
— only  fifteen  minutes — but  during  that  short  space  of  time  an 
act  was  accomplished  which  shook  the  whole  British  Empire  to 
its  foundation.  From  the  conspiracy  to  which  this  daring  deed 
was  traceable  the  English  people  had  already  received  many 
Itartling  surprises.    The  liberation  of  Jame*?  Stephens,  and  the 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  247 

short-lived  insurrection  that  filled  the  snow-capped  hills  with 
hardy  fugitives,  six  months  before,  had  both  occasioned  deep 
excitement  in  England  ;  but  nothing  that  Fenianism  had  yet 
accomplished  acted  in  the  same  bewildering  manner  on  the 
English  mind.     In  the  heart  of  one  of  their  largest  cities,  in  the 
broad  daylight,  openly  and  undisguisedly,  a  band  of  Irishmen 
had  appeared  in  arms  against  the  Queen's  authority,  and  set 
the  power  and  resources  of  the  law  at  defiance.     They  had 
rescued  a  co-conspirator  from  the  grasp  of   the  government, 
and  slain  an  officer  of  the  law  in  the  pursuit  of  their  object. 
Within  a  few  minutes'  walk  of  barracks  and  military  depots — 
in  sight  of  the  royal  ensign  that  waved  over  hundreds  of  her 
Majesty's  defenders,  a  prison  van  had  been  stopped  and  broken 
open,  and  its  defenders  shot  at  and  put  to  flight.     Never  had 
the  English  people  heard  of  so  audacious  a  proceeding — never 
did  they  feel  more  insulted.     From  every  corner  of  the  land 
the  cry  swelled  up  for  vengeance  fierce  and  prompt.      Victims 
there  should  be;  blood — Irish  blood — the  people  would  have; 
nor  were   they  willing  to  wait  long  for  it.     It  might  be  that, 
falling  in  hot  haste,  the  sword  of  Justice  might  strike  the  inno- 
cent,  and  not  the  guilty ;  it  might  be  that,  in   the  thirst  foi 
vengeance,  the  restraints  of  humanity  would  be  forgotten;  but 
the  English  nature,  now  thoroughly  aroused,  cared   little  for 
such  considerations.     It  was   Irishmen  who   had   defied    and 
trampled  over  their  power ;  the  whole  Irish  people  approved 
of  the  act ;  and  it  mattered  little  who  the  objects  of  their  fury 
might  be,  provided  they  belonged  to  the  detested  race.     The 
prisoners,  huddled  together  in  the   Manchester  prisons,  with 
chains  around  their  limbs,  might  not  be  the  liberators  of  Colonel 
Kelly — the   slayers  of    Brett    might    not   be    amongst   them; 
but  they  were  Irishmen,  at  any  rate,  and  so  they  would  an- 
swer the  purpose.     Short    shrift  was  the  cry.     The  ordinary 
forms  of  law,  the  maxims  of  the  Constitution,  the  rules  of  judi- 
cial procedure,  the  proprieties  of  social  order  and  civilization, 
might    be    outraged    and    discarded,    but    speedy   vengeance 
should,  at  all  hazards,  be  obtained,  the  hangman  could  not  wait 


248 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE  SCAFFOLD, 


for  his  fee,  nor  the  people  for  their  carnival  of  blood ;  and  «o 
it  was  settled  that,  instead  of  being  tried  at  the  ordinary  Com- 
mission, in  December,  a  Special  Commission  should  be  issued 
on  the  spot  for  the  trial  of  the  accused. 

On  Thursday,  the  25th  of  October,  the  prisoners  were  brought 
up  for  committal,  before  Mr.  Fowler,  R.M.,  and  a  bench  of 
brother  magistrates.  Some  of  the  Irishmen  arrested  in  the 
first  instance  had  been  discharged — not  that  no  one  could  be 
found  to  swear  against  them  (a  difficulty  which  never  seems  to 
have  arisen  in  these  cases)  but  that  the  number  of  witnesses  who 
could  swear  to  their  innocence  was  so  great,  that  an  attempt 
to  press  for  convictions  in  their  cases  would  be  certain  to 
jeopardize  the  whole  proceedings.  The  following  is  a  list  of  the 
prisoners  put  forward,  the  names  being,  as  afterwards  appeared, 
in  many  cases  fictitious  : — 

William  O'Meara  Allen,  Edward  Shore,  Henry  Wilson,  William 
Gould,  Michael  Larkin,  Patrick  Kelly,  Charles  Moorhouse,  John 
Brennan,  John  Bacon,  William  Martin,  John  F.  Nugent,  James  Sherry, 
Robert  M'Williams,  Michael  Maguire,  Thomas  Maguire,  Michael 
Morris,  Michael  Bryan,  Michael  Corcoran,  Thomas  Ryan,  John  Car- 
roll, John  Gleeson,  Michael  Kennedy,  John  Morris,  Patrick  Kelly, 
Hugh  Foley,  Patrick  Coffey,  Thomas  Kelly,  and  Thomas  Scally. 

It  forms  no  part  of  our  purpose  to  follow  out  the  history  of 
the  proceedings  in  the  Manchester  court  on  the  25th  of  Sep- 
tember and  the  following  days;  but  there  are  some  circum- 
stances in  connection  with  that  investigation  which  it  would  be 
impossible  to  pass  over  without  comment.  It  was  on  this  oc- 
casion that  the  extraordinary  sight  of  men  being  tried  in  chains 
was  witnessed,  and  that  the  representatives  of  the  English 
crown  came  to  sit  in  judgment  on  men  still  innocent  in  the 
eyes  of  the  law,  yet  manacled  like  convicted  felons.  With  the 
blistering  irons  clasped  tight  round  their  wrists  the  Irish  pris- 
oners stood  forward,  that  justice — such  justice  as  tortures  men 
first  and  tries  them  afterwards — might  be  administered  to  them. 
*'The  police  considered  the  precaution  necessary,"  urged  the 
magistrate,  in  reply  to  the  scathing  denunciation  of  the  unpre» 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  249 

cedented  outrage  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Ernest  Jones, 
one  of  the  prisoners'  counsel.     The  police  considered  it  neces- 
sary, though  within  the  court-house  no  friend  of  the  accused 
could  dare  to  show  his  face — though  the  whole  building  bristled 
with  military  and  with   policemen,  with   their  revolvers  osten- 
tatiously  displayed  ;    necessary,  though  every  approach  to  the 
court-house  was  held  by  an    armed  guard,  and   though  every 
soldier    in  the  whole  city   was    standing  to    arms;  necessary 
there,  in  the  heart  of  an  English  city,  with  a  dense  population 
thirsting  for  the    blood  of   the    accused,  and  when  the    danger 
seemed  to    be,  not    that    they  might    escape  from    custody — a 
flight     to    the     moon    would     be     equally    practicable — but 
that    they  might  be    butchered    in  cold  blood  by    the   angry 
English  mob  that  scowled  on    them  from  the  galleries  of  the 
court-house,    and  howled    round   the  building  in  which    they 
stood.     In  vain    did    Mr.    Jones    protest,    in    scornful    words, 
against    the  brutal   indignity — in  vain    did   he    appeal  to  the 
spirit    of    British    justice,   to   ancient    precedent,  and   modern 
practice — in    vain  did  he  inveigh  agai  ist  a  proceeding  which 
forbade  the  intercourse  necessary  between  him  and  his  clients — ■ 
and  in  vain  did  he  point  out  that  the  prisoners  in  the  dock  were 
guiltless  and  innocent  men  according  to  the  theory  of  the  law. 
No  arguments,  no  expostulations  would  change  the  magistrate's 
decision.     Amidst  the  applause  of  the  cowardly  set  that  rep- 
resented the  British  public  within  the  court-house,  he  insisted 
that  the    handcuffs   should    remain   on  ;  and  then   Mr.  Jones, 
taking  the  only  course  left  to  a  man  of  spirit  under  the  circum- 
stances, threw  down  his  brief,  and  indignantly  quitted  the  dese- 
crated justice-hall.     Fearing  the  consequences  of  leaving  the 
prisoners  utterly  undefended,  Mr.  Cottingham,  the  junior  counsel 
for  the  defence,  refrained  from  following  Mr.  Jones'  example, 
but  he,  too,  protested  loudly,  boldly,  and  indignantly  against 
the  cowardly  outrage,  worthy  of  the  worst  days  of  the  French 
monarchy,  which  his  clients  were  being   subjected    to.     The 
whole  investigation  was  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  evinced  by 
the  bench.    .The  witnesses  seemed  to  come  for  the  special  pur« 


250 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


pose  of  swearing  point-blank  against  the  hapless  men  In  the 
dock,  no  matter  at  what  cost  to  truth,  and  to  take  a  fiendish 
pleasure  in  assisting  in  securing  their  condemnation.  One  of 
the  witnesses  was  sure  "  the  whole  lot  of  them  wanted  to  mur- 
der every  one  who  had  any  property  ;"  another  assured  his  in- 
terrogator in  the  dock  that  '  he  would  go  to  see  him  hanged  ;" 
and  a  third  had  no  hesitation  in  acknowledging  the  attractions 
which  the  reward  offered  by  the  government  possessed  for  his 
mind.  Men  and  women,  young  and  old,  all  seemed  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  but  the  one  idea — to  secure  as  much  of  the  blood- 
money  as  possible,  and  to  do  their  best  to  bring  the  hated  Irish 
to  the  gallows.  Of  course,  an  investigation,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, could  have  but  one  ending,  and  no  one  was  sur- 
prised to  learn,  at  its  conclusion,  that  the  whole  of  the  reso- 
lute body  of  stern-faced  men,  who,  manacled  and  suffering,  con- 
fronted their  malignant  accusers,  had  been  committed  to  stand 
their  trial  in  hot  haste  for  the  crime  of  *'  wilful  murder." 

Of  the  men  thus  dealt  with  there  were  four  with  whose  fate 
this  narrative  is  closely  connected,  and  whose  names  are  des- 
tined to  be  long  remembered  in  Ireland.  They  have  won  for 
themselves,  by  their  courage,  constancy,  and  patriotism,  a  fame 
that  will  never  die ;  and  through  all  future  time  they  will  tank 
beside  the  dauntless  spirits  that  in  days  of  darkness  and  disas- 
ter perished  for  the  sacred  cause  of  Ireland.  Great  men, 
learned  men,  prominent  men  they  were  not — they  were  poor, 
they  were  humble,  they  were  unknown  ;  they  had  no  claim  to 
the  reputation  of  the  warrior,  the  scholar,  or  the  statesman  ; 
but  they  labored,  as  they  believed,  for  the  redemption  of  their 
country  from  bondage ;  they  risked  their  lives  in  a  chivalrous 
attempt  to  rescue  from  captivity  two  men  whom  they  regarded 
as  innocent  patriots,  and  when  the  forfeit  was  claimed,  they 
bore  themselves  with  the  unwavering  courage  and  single- 
heartedness  of  Christian  heroes.  Their  short  and  simple  annals 
are  easily  written,  but  their  names  are  graven  on  the  Irish 
heart,  and  their  names  and  actions  will  be  cherished  in  Ireland 
when  the  monumental  piles  that  mark  the  resting-places  of  the 


THE   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


251 


wealthy  and  the  proud  have  returned,  like  the  bodies  laid  be^ 
neath  them,  to  dust. 

William  Philip  Allen  was  born  near  the  town  of  Tipperary, 
in  April,  1848.  Before  he  was  quite  three  years  old  his  parents 
removed  to  Bandon,  county  Cork,  where  the  father,  who  pro- 
fessed the  Protestant  religion,  received  the  appointment  of 
bridewell-keeper.  As  young  Allen  grew  up,  he  evinced  a  re- 
markable aptitude  for  the  acquirement  of  knowledge,  and  his 
studious  habits  were  well-known  to  his  playmates  and  compan- 
ions. He  was  a  regular  attendant  at  the  local  training-school  for 
the  education  of  teachers  for  the  Protestant  schools  of  the 
parish,  but  he  also  received  instruction  at  the  morning  and 
evening  schools  conducted  under  Catholic  auspices,  in  the 
same  town.  He  was  not  a  wild  boy,  but  he  was  quick  and 
impulsive — ready  to  resent  a  wrong,  but  equally  ready  to 
forgive  one;  and  his  natural  independence  of  spirit  and  manly 
disposition  rendered  him  a  favorite  with  all  his  acquaintances. 
The  influence  and  example  of  his  father  did  not  prevent  him 
from  casting  a  wistful  eye  towards  the  ancient  Faith.  His 
mother,  a  good  pious  Catholic,  whose  warmest  aspiration  was 
to  see  her  children  in  the  fold  of  the  true  Church,  encouraged 
this  disposition  by  all  the  means  in  her  power,  and  the  result 
of  her  pious  care  shortly  became  apparent.  A  mission,  opened 
in  the  town  by  some  Catholic  order  of  priests,  completed  the 
good  work,  which  the  prayers  and  the  example  of  an  affection- 
ate mother  had  commenced  ;  and  young  Allen,  after  regularly 
attending  the  religious  services  and  exercises  of  the  mission, 
became  so  much  impressed  with  the  truth  of  the  lectures  and 
sermons  he  had  listened  to,  that  he  formally  renounced  the 
alien  religion,  and  was  received  by  the  respected  parish  priest 
of  the  town  into  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic  Church.  His  only 
sister  followed  his  example,  while  his  brothers,  four  in  number, 
remained  in  the  Protestant  communion.  The  subject  of  our 
sketch  was  apprenticed  to  a  respectable  master-carpenter  and 
timber  merchant  in  Bandon,  but  circumstances  highly  credit>» 
able  to  the  young  convert  induced  the  severance  of  the  conneo 


252 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


tion  before  his  period  of  apprenticeship  was  expired,  and  we 
next  find  him  working  at  his  trade  in  Cork,  where  he  remained 
for  some  six  months,  after  which  he  returned  to  Bandon.  He 
next  crossed  over  to  Manchester,  at  the  request  of  some  near 
relatives  living  there.  Subsequently  he  spent  a  few  weeks  in 
Dublin,  where  he  worked  as  builder's  clerk ;  and  finally  he  re- 
visited Manchester,  where  he  had  made  himself  numerous 
friends.  It  was  in  the  summer  of  1867  that  Allen  last  journeyed 
to  Manchester.  He  was  then  little  more  than  nineteen  years 
old,  but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  had  long  before  be- 
come connected  with  the  Fenian  conspiracy.  In  his  ardent 
temperament  the  seeds  of  patriotism  took  deep  and  firm  root, 
and  the  dangers  of  the  enterprise  to  which  the  Fenians  were 
committed  served  only  to  give  it  a  fresh  claim  upon  his  enthu- 
siastic nature. 

When  Colonel  Kelly  quitted  Dublin,  and  took  up  his  quar- 
ters in  Manchester,  Allen  was  one  of  his  most  trusted  and  inti- 
mate associates  ;  and  when  the  prison  door  grated  behind  the 
Fenian  leader,  it  was  Allen  who  roused  his  countrymen  to  the 
task  of  effecting  his  liberation.  Allen  had  by  this  time  grown 
into  a  comely  young  man,  of  prepossessing  appearance  ;  he  was 
a  little  over  the  middle  height,  well-shaped,  without  presenting 
the  appearance  of  unusual  strength,  and  was  always  seen  neatly 
and  respectably  dressed.  His  face  was  pale,  and  wore  a 
thoughtful  expression,  his  features  when  in  repose,  wearing  an 
appearance  of  pensiveness  approaching  to  melancholy.  His 
eyes  were  small,  the  eyelids  slightly  marked  ;  a  mass  of  dark 
hair  clustered  gracefully  over  a  broad,  pale  forehead,  while  the 
absence  of  any  beard  gave  him  a  peculiarly  boyish  appearance. 
Gentle  and  docile  in  his  calmer  moments,  when  roused  to  action 
he  was  all  fire  and  energy.  We  have  all  seen  how  he  bore  him- 
self during  the  attack  on  the  prison  van,  for  he  it  was  whom  so 
many  witnesses  identified  as  the  pale-faced  young  fellow  who 
led  the  attack,  and  whose  prophetic  assurance  that  he  would 
die  for  him  greeted  Kelly  on  regaining  his  freedom.  During 
the  magisterial    investigation  he  bore  himself  firmly,  proudly, 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


253 


and,  as  the  English  papers  would  have  it,  defiantly.  His  glance 
never  quailed  during  the  trying  ordeal.  The  marks  of  the  bru- 
tality of  his  cowardly  captors  were  still  upon  him,  and  the 
galling  irons  that  bound  his  hands  cut  into  his  wrists ;  but 
Allen  never  winced  a  moment,  and  he  listened  to  the  evidence 
of  the  sordid  crew,  who  came  to  barter  away  his  young  life, 
with  resolute  mien.  The  triumph  was  with  him.  Out  of  the 
jaws  of  death  he  had  rescued  the  leader  whose  freedom  he  con- 
sidered essential  to  the  success  of  a  patriotic  undertaking,  and 
he  was  satisfied  to  pay  the  cost  of  the  venture.  He  had  set 
his  foot  upon  the  ploughshare,  and  would  not  shrink  from  the 
ordeal  which  he  had  challenged. 

Amongst  the  crowd  of  manacled  men  committed  for  trial  by 
the  Manchester  magistrates,  not  one  presented  a  finer  or  more 
impressive  exterior  than  Michael  O'Brien,  set  down  in  the  list 
above  given  as  Michael  Gould.  Standing  in  the  dock,  he 
seemed  the  impersonation  of  vigorous  manhood.  Frank,  fear- 
less, and  resolute,  with  courage  and  truth  imprinted  on  every 
feature,  he  presented  to  the  eye  a  perfect  type  of  the  brave 
soldier.  He  was  tall  and  well-proportioned,  and  his  broad 
shoulders  and  well-developed  limbs  told  of  physical  strength  in 
keeping  with  the  firmness  reflected  in  his  face.  His  gaze,  when 
it  rested  on  the  unfriendly  countenances  before  him,  was  firm 
and  undrooping,  but  a  kindly  light  lit  his  hazel  eyes,  and  his 
features  relaxed  into  a  sympathizing  and  encouraging  expres- 
sion, as  often  as  he  glanced  at  Allen,  who  stood  behind  him,  or 
bent  his  gaze  upon  any  of  his  other  fellow-prisoners.  O'Brien 
was  born  near  Ballymacoda,  county  Cork,  the  birthplace  of  the 
ill-fated  and  heroic  Peter  Crowley.  His  father  rented  a  large 
farm  in  the  same  parish,  but  the  blight  of  the  bad  laws  which 
are  the  curse  of  Ireland  fell  upon  him,  and  in  the  year  1856,  the 
O'Briens  were  flung  upon  the  world,  dispossessed  of  lands  and 
home,  though  they  owed  no  man  a  penny  at  the  time.  Michael 
O'Brien  was  apprenticed  to  a  draper  in  Youghal,  and  earned, 
during  the  period  of  his  apprenticeship,  the  respect  and  esteem 
of  all  who  knew  him.     He  was  quiet  and  gentlemanly  m  man- 


254 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


ners,  and  his  character  for  morality  and  good  conduct  was  irre. 
proachable.  Having  served  out  his  time  in  Youghal,  he  went 
to  Cork,  and  he  spent  some  time  as  an  assistant  in  one  of  the 
leading  drapery  establishments  of  that  city.  He  afterwards 
emigrated  to  America,  where  some  of  his  relatives  were  com^ 
fortably  settled.  Like  many  of  the  bravest  of  his  fellow-coun. 
trymen,  the  outbreak  of  the  civil  war  kindled  a  military  ardor 
within  his  bosom,  and  O'Brien  found  himself  unable  to  resist 
the  attractions  which  the  soldier's  career  possessed  for  him. 
His  record  throughout  the  war  was  highly  honorable;  his 
bravery  and  good  conduct  won  him  speedy  promotion,  and 
long  before  the  termination  of  the  conflict,  he  had  risen  to  the 
rank  of  lieutenant.  When  his  regiment  was  disbanded  he  re- 
crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  returned  to  Cork,  where  he  again  ob- 
tained employment  as  assistant  in  one  of  the  large  commercial 
establishments.  Here  he  remained  until  the  night  before  the 
Fenian  rising,  when  he  suddenly  disappeared,  and  all  further 
trace  was  lost  of  him,  until  arrested  for  participating  in  the 
attack  upon  the  prison  van  in  Manchester. 

Close  by  his  side  in  the  dock  stood  Michael  Larkin,  an  in- 
telligent-looking man,  older-looking  than  most  of  his  fellow- 
prisoners.  The  following  are  a  few  facts  relating  to  his  humble 
history : — 

"  He  was,"  writes  a  correspondent  who  knew  him,  "a  native 
of  the  parish  of  Lushmagh,  in  the  south-western  corner  of 
King's  county,  where  for  many  generations  his  ancestors  have 
been  residents  on  the  Cloghan  Castle  estate  (then  in  possession 
of  the  O'Moore  family),  and  where  several  of  his  relatives  still 
reside;  and  was  grandson  to  James  Quirke,  a  well-to-do  farmer, 
who  was  flogged  and  transported  in  '98  for  complicity  in  the 
rebellion  of  that  time,  and  whose  name,  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  is  remembered  with  pleasure  and  affection  for  his  in- 
domitable courage  and  perseverance  in  resisting  the  repeated 
allurements  held  out  by  the  corrupt  minions  of  the  crown  to 
induce  him  to  become  a  traitor  to  his  companions  and  his 
country.    But  all  their  importunities  were  vain  ;  Quirke  steadily 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  255 

persevered  in  the  principles  of  his  gallant  leader,  Robert 
Emmet.  Larkin's  father  was  a  respectable  tradesman,  carry- 
ing on  his  business  for  many  years  in  his  native  parish  ;  he  re- 
moved to  Parsonstown,  where  he  contrived  to  impart  to  his  son 
Michael  a  good  English  education,  and  then  taught  him  his  own 
profession.  When  Michael  had  attained  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  his  business,  he  was  employed  till  1858,  at  Parsonstown; 
then  went  to  England,  to  improve  his  condition,  and  after 
some  time  he  married  and  continued  to  work  on  industriously 
at  his  business  till  May,  1867,  when  he  visited  his  native  country 
to  receive  the  last  benediction  of  his  dying  father.  He  again 
returned  to  England  with  his  wife  and  family,  to  resume  his 
employment.  After  some  time  he  was  arrested  for  assisting  to 
release  two  of  his  fellow  countrymen  from  bondage.  I  cannot 
attempt  to  enumerate  the  many  good  qualities  of  the 
deceased  patriot ;  the  paternal  affection,  exhibited  from 
the  earliest  age ;  the  mildness  and  affability  of  manner, 
good  temper,  affectionate  and  inoffensive  disposition  ;  his  so- 
briety and  good  moral  conduct — endeared  him  to  all  who  had 
the  pleasure  and  honor  of  his  acquaintance.  Throughout  his 
whole  life  he  was  remarkable  for  his  '  love  of  country,'  and  ex- 
pressions of  sincere  regret  for  the  miserable  condition  of  many 
of  his  countrymen  were  ever  on  his  lips.  He  was,  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  idea,  a  good  son,  an  affectionate  husband  and  father, 
and  a  sincere  friend." 

On  Monday,  October  28th,  the  three  Irishmen  whose 
lives  we  have  glanced  at  were  placed  at  the  bar  of  the  Man- 
chester Assize  court,  and  formally  placed  on  their  trial  for 
wilful  murder.  With  them  were  arraigned  Thomas  Maguire, 
a  private  belonging  to  the  Royal  Marines,  who  was  on  furlough 
in  Liverpool  at  the  time  of  Kelly's  liberation,  and  who  was  ar- 
rested merely  because  he  happened  to  be  an  Irishman,  and  who, 
though  perfectly  innocent  of  the  whole  transaction,  had  been 
sworn  against  by  numerous  witnesses  as  a  ringleader  in  the 
attack;  and  Edward  O'Meagher  Condon  (^//^^  Shore),  a  fine- 
looking  Irish-American,  a  citizen  of  the  State  of  Ohio,  against 


2^6  7HE  DOCK  AND    THE  SCAFFOLD. 

whom,  like  his  four  companions,  true  bills  had  been  found  by 
the  Grand  Jury.  It  would  take  long  to  describe  the  paroxysms 
of  excitement,  panic,  and  agitation  that  raged  in  the  English 
mind  during  the  period  that  intervened  between  the  committal 
of  the  prisoners  and  the  date  at  which  we  are  now  arrived. 
Nothing  was  heard  of  but  the  Fenians ;  nothing  was  talked  of 
but  the  diabolical  plots  and  murderous  designs  they  were  said 
to  be  preparing.  The  Queen  was  to  be  shot  at ;  Balmoral  was 
to  be  burned  down  ;  the  armories  had  been  attacked  ;  the  bar- 
racks were  undermined  ;  the  gas  works  were  to  be  exploded, 
the  Bank  blown  up,  the  water  poisoned.  Nothing  was  too  in- 
fernal or  too  wicked  for  the  Fenians,  and  every  hour  brought 
some  addition  to  the  monstrous  stock  of  canards.  North  and 
south,  east  and  west,  the  English  people  were  in  a  ferment  of 
anxious  alarm  ;  and  everywhere  Fenianism  was  cursed  as  an 
unholy  thing  to  be  cut  from  society  as  an  ulcerous  sore — to  be 
banned  and  loathed  as  a  pestilence — a  foul  creation  with  mur- 
der in  its  glare,  and  the  torch  of  the  incendiary  burning  in  its 
gory  hand.  Under  these  circumstances,  there  was  little  chance 
that  an  unprejudiced  jury  could  be  empanelled  for  the  trial  of 
the  Irish  prisoners;  and  their  counsel, _  seeing  the  danger, 
sought  to  avert  it  by  a  motion  for  the  postponement  of  the 
trials.  The  Home  Secretary  was  memorialized  on  the  subject, 
and  the  application  was  renewed  before  the  judges  in  the  court, 
but  the  efforts  to  obtain  justice  were  fruitless.  The  blood  of 
the  British  lion  was  up;  with  blood-shot  eyes  and  bristling 
mane  he  stood  awaiting  his  prey,  and  there  was  danger  in  trifling 
with  his  rage.  Even  Special  Commissions  were  voted  slow,  and 
a  cry  arose  for  martial  law,  Lynch  law,  or  any  law  that  would  give 
the  blood  of  the  victims  without  hindrance  or  delay.  So  the 
appeal  for  time  was  spurned ;  the  Government  was  deaf  to  all 
remonstrance ;  British  bloodthirstiness  carried  the  day,  and  the 
trials  proceeded  without  interruption. 

We  have  not  patience  to  rehearse  calmly  the  story  of  these 
trials,  which  will  long  remain  the  reproach  of  British  lawyers. 
We  shall  not  probe  the  motives  which  led  to  the  appointment 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


25; 


tft  two  such  men  as  Justice  Mellor  and  Justice  Blackburne  aa 
judges  of  the  Commission,  but  history  will  be  at  no  loss  to 
connect  the  selection  with  their  peculiar  character  on  the  bench. 
Nor  shall  we  analyze  the  speeches  of  the  Attorney-General 
and  his  colleagues,  in  which  the  passions  and  prejudices  of  the 
jury  were  so  dexterously  appealed  to.  The  character  of  the 
evidence  demands  more  study.  The  witnesses  consisted  of  the 
policemen  present  at  the  attack,  the  prisoners  who  were  locked 
with  Kelly  and  Deasey  in  the  van,  and  the  by-standers  who  saw 
the  affray,  or  assisted  in  stoning  the  prisoners  before  and  after 
they  were  captured.  They  swore  with  the  utmost  composure 
against  the  four  prisoners.  Allen  was  identified  as  one  of  the 
leaders,  and  he  it  was  whom  most  of  the  witnesses  declared  to 
have  fired  through  the  door.  On  this  point,  indeed,  as  01/ 
many  others,  there  was  confusion  and  contradiction  in  the  evi 
dence;  some  of  the  witnesses  were  sure  it  was  O'Brien  fired 
through  the  door;  others  were  inclined  to  assign  the  leading 
part  to  Condon ;  but  before  the  trial  had  gone  far,  it  seemed  to 
be  understood  that  Allen  was  the  man  to  whom  the  death  of 
Brett  was  to  be  attributed,  and  that  the  business  of  the  wit- 
nesses was  to  connect  the  other  prisoners  as  closely  as  possible 
with  his  act.  On  one  point  nearly  all  of  the  witnesses  were 
agreed — whoever  there  might  be  any  doubt  about,  there  could 
be  none  concerning  Maguire.  Seven  witnesses  swore  positively 
to  having  seen  him  assisting  in  breaking  open  the  van,  and 
some  of  them  even  repeated  the  words  which  they  said  he  ad- 
dressed to  them  while  thus  engaged.  On  the  evening  of 
Friday,  November  ist,  the  trials  terminated.  It  was  past  five 
o'clock  when  Judge  Mellor  concluded  his  charge.  The  court 
was  densely  crowded,  and  every  eye  was  strained  to  mark  the 
effect  of  the  judge's  words  upon  the  countenances  of  the  pris- 
oners ;  but  they,  poor  fellows,  quailed  not  as  they  heard  the 
words  which  they  knew  would  shortly  be  followed  by  a  verdict 
consigning  them  to  the  scaffold.  Throughout  the  long  trial 
their  courage  had  never  flagged,  their  spirits  had  never  failed 
them  for  an  instant.     Maguire,  who  had  no  real  connection 


^58  T^^  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

with  the  other  four,  and  who  knew  that  the  charge  against  him 
was  a  baseless  concoction,  did,  indeed,  betray  traces  of  anxiety 
and  bewilderment  as  the  trial  progressed ;  but  Allen,  O'Brien, 
Larkin,  and  Condon  went  through  the  frightful  ordeal  with  a 
heroic  display  of  courage  to  which  even  the  most  malignant  of 
their  enemies  have  paid  tribute. 

The  judge  has  dune,  and  now  the  jury  turned  from  the  box 
"to  consider  their  verdict."  An  hour  and  twenty  minutes  they 
remained  absent ;  then  their  returning  tread  was  heard.  The 
prisoners  turned  their  eyes  upwards ;  Maguire  looked  towards 
them,  half-hopefully,  half-appealingly ;  from  Allen's  glance 
nothing  but  defiance  could  be  read  ;  Larkin  fixed  his  gaze  on 
the  foreman,  who  held  the  fatal  record  in  his  hand,  with  calm 
resolution  ;  while  a  quiet  smile  played  round  O'Brien's  lips,  as 
he  turned  to  hear  the  expected  words. 

"Guilty!"  The  word  is  snatched  up  from  the  lips  of  the 
foreman  of  the  jury,  and  whispered  through  the  court.  They 
were  all  "guilty."  So  said  the  jury;  and  a  murmur  of  ap- 
plause came  rolling  back  in  response  to  the  verdict.  "Guilt)!" 
A  few  there  were  in  that  court  upon  whom  the  fatal  words 
fell  with  the  bitterness  of  death,  but  the  Englishmen  who 
filled  the  crowded  gallery  and  passages  exulted  at  the  sound  ; 
the  vengeance  which  they  longed  for  was  at  hand. 

The  murmur  died  away  ;  the  sobs  that  rose  from  the  dark 
recesses  where  a  few  stricken-hearted  women  had  been  permit- 
ted to  stand  where  stifled  ;  and  then,  amidst  breathless  silence, 
the  voice  of  the  Crown  Clerk  was  heard  demanding  "if  the 
prisoners  had  anything  to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should 
not  be  pronounced  on  them." 

The  first  to  respond  was  Allen.  A  sH.2:bt  flush  reddened  his 
cheeks,  and  his  eyes  lit  up  with  the  fire  of  enthusiasm  and  de- 
termination, as,  advancing  to  the  front  of  the  dock,  he  con- 
fronted the  court,  and  spoke  in  resolute  tones  as  follows : — 

"  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen, — It  is  not  my  intention  to  occupy 
Biuch  of  your  time  in  answering  your  question.    Your  question  is  ont 


TME  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


25^ 


that  can  be  easily  asked,  but  requires  an  answer  which  I  am  ignor- 
ant of.  Abler  and  more  eloquent  men  could  not  answer  it.  Where 
were  the  men  who  have  stood  in  the  dock — Burke,  Emmet,  and  others, 
who  have  stood  in  the  dock  in  defence  of  their  country  ?  When  the 
question  was  put,  what  was  their  answer  ?  Their  answer  was  null  and 
void.  Now,  with  your  permission,  I  will  review  a  portion  of  the  eyi- 
dence  that  has  been  brought  against  me." 

Here  Mr.  Justice  Blackburne  interrupted.  "  It  was  too  late," 
he  said,  "  to  criticise  the  evidence,  and  the  court  bad  neither 
the  right  nor  the  power  to  alter  or  review  it.  If,"'  he  added, 
''  you  have  any  reason  to  give  Avhy,  either  upon  technical  or 
moral  grounds,  the  sentence  should  not  be  pas.^-  d  upon  you, 
we  will  hear  it,  but  it  is  too  late  for  you  to  review  the  evidence 
to  show  that  it  was  wrong." 

'■'  Cannot  that  be  done  in  the  morning,  sir?"  asked  Allen, 
who  felt  in  his  heart  how  easily  the  evidence  on  which  he  had 
been  convicted  might  be  torn  to  shreds.  But  the  judge  said 
not.  "  No  one,"  he  said,  *' could  alter  or  review  the  evidence 
in  any  way,  after  the  verdict  had  been  passed  by  the  jury.  We 
can  only,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  ''  take  the  verdict  as  right ; 
and  the  only  question  for  you  is,  why  judgment  should  not 
follow." 

Thus  restricted  in  the  scope  of  his  observations,  the  young 
felon  proceeded  to  deliver  the  following  patriotic  and  spirited 
address  : — 

"  No  man  in  this  court  regrets  the  death  of  Sergeant  Brett  more 
than  I  do,  and  I  postively  say,  in  the  presence  of  the  Almighty  and 
ever-living  God,  that  I  am  innocent,  aye,  as  innocent  as  any  man  in 
this  court.  I  don't  say  this  for  the  sake  of  mercy  ;  I  want  no  mercy — 
I'll  have  no  mercy.  I'll  die,  as  many  thousands  have  died,  for  the 
sake  of  their  beloved  land,  and  in  defence  of  it.  I  will  die  proudly 
and  triumphantly  in  defence  of  republican  principles,  and  the  liberty 
of  an  oppressed  and  enslaved  people.  Is  it  possible  we  are  asked  why 
sentence  should  not  be  passed  upon  us,  on  the  evidence  of  prostitutes 
off  the  streets  of  Manchester,  fellows  out  of  work,  convicted  felons — 
aye,  an  Irishman  sentenced  to  be  hung  when  an  English  dog  would 
have  got  off.  I  say  positively  and  defiantly,  justice  has  not  been  done 
me  since  I  was  arrested.  If  justice  had  been  done  me,  I  would  not 
have  been  handcuffed  at  the  preliminary  investigation  in  Bridge  Street, 


26o  ^^^  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

and  in  this  court  justice  has  not  been  done  me  in  any  shape  of 
form.  I  was  brought  up  here,  and  all  the  prisoners  by  my  side  were 
allowed  to  wear  overcoats,  and  I  was  told  to  take  mine  off.  What 
is  the  principle  of  that  ?  There  was  something  in  that  principle,  and 
I  say,  positively,  that  justice  has  not  been  done  me.  As  for  the  other 
prisoners,  they  can  speak  for  themselves  with  regard  to  that  matter. 
And  now,  with  regard  to  the  way  I  have  been  identified.  I  have  to 
say  that  my  clothes  were  kept  for  four  hours  by  the  policemen  in 
Fairfield  station,  and  shown  to  parties  to  identify  me  as  being  one  of 
the  perpetrators  of  this  outrage  on  Hyde  road.  Also  in  Albert  sta- 
tion there  was  a  handkerchief  kept  on  my  head  the  whole  night,  so 
that  I  could  be  identified  the  next  morning  in  the  corridor  by  the 
witnesses.  I  was  ordered  to  leave  on  the  handkerchief  for  the  pur- 
pose that  the  witnesses  could  more  plainly  see  I  was  one  of  the  parties 
who  committed  the  outrage.  As  for  myself,  I  feel  the  righteousness 
of  my  every  act  with  regard  to  what  I  have  done  in  defence  of  my 
country.  I  fear  not.  I  am  fearless — fearless  of  the  punishment  that 
can  be  inflicted  on  me  ;  and  with  that,  my  lords,  I  have  done. 
[After  a  moment's  pause] — I  beg  to  be  excused.  One  remark  more. 
I  return  Mr.  Seymour  and  Mr.  Jones  my  sincere  and  heartfelt  thanks 
for  their  able  eloquence  and  advocacy  on  my  part  in  this  affray.  I 
wish  also  to  return  to  Mr.  Roberts  the  very  safne.  My  name,  sir, 
might  be  wished  to  be  known.  It  is  not  William  O'Meara  Allen.  My 
name  is  William  Philip  Allen.  I  was  born  and  reared  in  Bandon,  in  the 
county  of  Cork,  and  from  that  place  I  take  my  name  ;  and  I  am  proud 
of  my  country,  and  proud  of  my  parentage.     My  lords,  I  have  done.'* 

A  sigh  of  mingled  applause  and  admiration  rose  faintly  on 
the  air,  as  the  gallant  young  Irishman,  inclining  his  head 
slightly  to  the  court,  retired  to  make  way  at  the  front  of  the 
bar  for  one  of  his  companions  in  misfortune.  But  his  chival- 
rous bearing  and  noble  words  woke  no  response  within  the  pre- 
judice-hardened hearts  of  the  majority  of  his  auditors  ;  they 
felt  that  the  fearless  words  of  the  fearless  youth  would  over- 
bear all  that  his  accusers  had  uttered,  and  the  world  would 
read  in  them  the  condemnation  of  the  government  and  of  the 
people  whose  power  he  so  bravely  defied. 

Michael  Larkin  spoke  next.  He  looked  a  shade  paler  than 
on  the  first  day  of  the  trial,  but  no  want  of  resolution  was  ex- 
pressed in  his  firm-set  face.  He  gazed  with  an  unquailing 
glance  round  the  faces  eagerly  bent  forward  to  catch  his  words, 
and  then  spoke  in  distinct  tones  as  follows : — 


THE   DOCK  AND    THR   SCAFFOLD,  25 1 

*'  I  have  only  got  a  word  or  two  to  say  concerning  Sergeant  Brett. 
As  my  friend  here  said,  no  one  could  regret  the  man's  death  as  much 
as  I  do.  With  regard  to  the  charge  of  pistols  and  revolvers,  and  my 
using  them,  I  call  my  God  as  a  witness  that  I  neither  used  pistol?, 
revolvers,  or  any  instrument  on  that  day  that  would  deprive  the  lifd 
of  a  child,  let  alone  a  man.  Nor  did  I  go  there  on  purpose  to  take 
life  away.  Certainly,  my  lords,  I  do  not  want  to  deny  that  I  did  go 
to  give  aid  and  assistance  to  those  two  noble  heroes  that  were  con- 
fined in  that  van — Kelly  and  Deasey.  I  did  go  to  do  as  much  as  lay 
in  my  power  to  extricate  them  out  of  their  bondage  ;  but  I  did  not  go 
to  take  life,  nor,  my  lord,  did  any  one  else.  It  is  a  misfortune  there 
was  life  taken  ;  but  if  it  was  taken  it  was  not  done  intentionally,  and 
the  man  who  has  taken  life,  we  have  not  got  him.  I  was  at  the  scene 
of  action,  when  there  were  over,  I  dare  say,  150  people  standing  by 
there  when  I  was.  I  am  very  sorry  I  have  to  say,  my  lord,  but  I 
thought  I  had  some  respectable  people  to  come  up  as  witnessei 
against  me;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  as  my  friend  said.  I  will  make  no 
more  remarks  concerning  that.  All  I  have  to  say,  my  lords  and  gen- 
tlemen, is  that  so  far  as  my  trial  went,  and  the  way  it  was  conducted, 
I  believe  I  have  got  a  fair  trial.  So  far  as  my  noble  counsel  went, 
they  done  their  utmost  in  the  protection  of  my  life;  likewise,  my  worthy 
solicitor,  Mr.  Roberts,  has  done  his  best;  but  I  believe  as  the  old  say- 
ing is  a  true  one,  what  is  decreed  a  man  in  the  page  of  life  he  has  to 
fulfil,  either  on  the  gallows,  drowning,  a  fair  death  in  a  bed,  or  on  the 
battlefield.  So  I  look  to  the  mercy  of  God.  May  God  forgive  all 
who  have  sworn  my  life  away.  As  I  am  a  dying  man,  I  forgive  them 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.     God  forgive  them." 

As  Larkin  ceased  speaking,  O'Brien,  who  stood  to  the  right 
of  him,  moved  slightly  in  advance,  and  intimated  by  a  slight 
inclination  to  the  court  his  intention  of  addressing  them.  His 
stalwart  form  seemed  to  dilate  with  proud  defiance  and  scorn 
as  he  faced  the  ermine-clad  dignitaries  who  were  about  to  con, 
sign  him  to  the  gibbet.  He  spoke  with  emphasis,  and  in  tones 
which  seemed  to  borrow  a  something  of  the  fire  and  spirit  o! 
his  words.     He  said  : — 

'*  I  shall  commence  by  saying  that  every  witness  who  has  sworn 
anything  against  me  has  sworn  falsely.  I  have  not  had  a  stone  in  my 
possession  since  I  was  a  boy.  I  had  no  pistol  in  my  possession  on  the 
day  when  it  is  alleged  this  outrage  was  committed.  You  call  it  an 
outrage;  I  don't.  I  say  further,  my  name  is  Michael  O'Brien.  I  was 
born  in  the  county  of  Cork,  and  have  the  honor  to  be  a  fellow-parish- 
ioner of  Peter  O'Neal  Crowley,  who  was  fighting  against  the  British 


262  ^^-^   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

troops  at  Mitchelstown  last  March,  and  who  fell  fighting  against  Brit- 
ish tyranny  in  Ireland.  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica, and  if  Charles  Francis  Adams  had  done  his  duty  towards  me,  as 
he  ought  to  do  in  this  country,  I  would  not  be  in  this  dock  answering 
your  questions  now.  Mr.  Adams  did  not  come,  though  I  wrote  to 
him.  He  did  not  come  to  see  if  I  could  not  find  evidence  to  dis- 
prove the  charge,  which  I  positively  could,  if  he  had  taken  the  trouble 
of  sending  or  coming  to  see  what  I  could  do.  I  hope  the  American 
people  will  notice  that  part  of  the  business.  [The  prisoner  here  com- 
menced reading  from  a  paper  he  held  in  his  hand.]  The  right  of  man 
is  freedom.  The  great  God  has  endowed  him  with  affections  that  he 
may  use,  not  smother  them,  and  a  world  that  may  be  enjoyed.  Once 
a  man  is  satisfied  he  is  doing  right,  and  attempts  to  do  anything  with 
that  conviction,  he  must  be  willing  to  face  all  the  consequences.  Ire- 
land, with  its  beautiful  scenery,  its  delightful  climate,  its  rich  and  pro- 
ductive lands,  is  capable  of  supporting  more  than  treble  its  popula- 
tion in  ease  and  comfort.  Yet  no  man,  except  a  paid  official  of  the 
British  government,  can  say  there  is  a  shadow  of  liberty,  that  there  is 
a  spark  of  glad  life  amongst  its  plundered  and  persecuted  inhabitants. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  its  imbecile  and  tyrannical  rulers  will  be  for- 
ever driven  from  her  soil,  amidst  the  execration  of  the  world.  How 
beautifully  the  aristocrats  of  England  moralize  on  the  despotism  of 
the  rulers  of  Italy  and  Dahomey — in  the  case  of  Naples,  with  what  in- 
dignation did  they  speak  of  the  ruin  of  families  by  the  detention  of 
its  head,  or  some  loved  member  in  a  prison.  Who  have  not  heard 
their  condemnations  oT  the  tyranny  that  would  compel  honorable  and 
good  men  to  spend  their  useful  lives  in  hopeless  banishment  ?" 

The  taunt  went  home  to  the  hearts  of  his  accusers,  and 
writhing  under  the  lash  thus  boldly  applied,  Judge  Blackburne 
hastened  to  intervene.  Unable  to  stay,  on  legal  grounds ^  the 
torrent  of  scathing  invective  by  which  O'Brien  was  driving  the 
blood  from  the  cheeks  of  his  British  listeners,  the  judge  resorted 
to  a  device  which  Mr.  Justice  Keogh  had  practised  very  adroitly, 
and  with  much  success,  at  various  of  the  State  trials  in  Ireland. 
He  appealed  to  the  prisoner,  "entirely  for  his  own  sake,"  to 
cease  his  remarks.  *'  The  only  possible  effect  of  your  observa- 
tions," he  said,  *'  must  be  to  tell  against  you  with  those  who 
have  to  consider  the  sentence.  I  advise  you  to  say  nothing 
more  of  that  sort.  I  do  so  entirely  for  your  own  sake."  But 
O'Brien  was  not  the  man  to  be  cowed  into  submission  by  this 
artful  representation.     Possibly  he  discerned  the  motive  of  the 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  26j 

interruption,  and  estimated  at  its  true  value  the  disinterested- 
ness of  Judge  Blackburne's'' advice."  Mr.  Ernest  Jones  in  vain 
used  his  influence  to  accomplish  the  judge's  object.  O'Brien 
spurned  the  treacherous  bait,  and  resolutely  proceeded : — 

"  They  cannot  find  words  to  express  their  horror  of  the  cruelties  of 
the  King  of  Dahomey  because  he  sacrificed  2,000  human  beings 
yearly,  but  why  don't  those  persons  who  pretended  such  virtuous  in- 
dignation at  the  misgovernment  of  other  countries  look  at  home,  and 
see  if  greater  crimes  than  those  they  charge  against  other  govern- 
ments are  not  committed  by  themselves,  or  by  their  sanction  ?  Let 
them  look  at  London,  and  see  the  thousands  that  want  bread  there, 
while  those  aristocrats  are  rioting  in  luxuries  and  crimes.  Look  to 
Ireland;  see  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  its  people  in  misery  and 
want.  See  the  virtuous,  beautiful,  and  industrious  women  who  only 
a  few  years  ago — aye,  and  yet — are  obliged  to  look  at  their  children 
dying  for  want  of  food.  Look  at  what  is  called  the  majesty  of  the 
law  on  one  side,  and  the  long  deep  misery  of  a  noble  people  on  the 
other.  Which  are  the  young  men  of  Ireland  to  respect — the  law  that 
murders  or  banishes  their  people,  or  the  means  to  resist  relentless 
tyranny,  and  ending  their  miseries  forever  under  a  home  government? 
I  need  not  answer  that  question  here.  I  trust  the  Irish  people  will 
answer  it  to  their  satisfaction  soon.  I  am  not  astonished  at  my  con- 
viction. The  government  of  this  country  have  the  power  of  convict- 
ing any  person.  They  appoint  the  judge;  they  choose  the  jury;  and 
by  means  of  what  they  call  patronage  (which  is  the  means  of  corrup- 
tion) they  have  the  power  of  making  the  laws  to  suit  their  purposes. 
I  am  confident  that  my  blood  will  rise  a  hundredfold  against  the 
tyrants  who  think  proper  to  commit  such  an  outrage.  In  the  first 
place,  I  say  I  was  identified  improperly,  by  having  chains  on  my 
hands  and  feet  at  the  time  of  identification,  and  thus  the  witnesses  who 
have  sworn  to  my  throwing  stones  and  firing  a  pistol  have  sworn  to 
what  is  false,  for  I  was,  as  those  ladies  said,  at  the  gaol  gates.  I  thank 
my  counsel  for  their  able  defence,  and  also  Mr.  Roberts,  for  his  at- 
tention to  my  case.** 

Thomas  Maguire  spoke  next.  He  might  well  have  felt  be- 
wildered at  the  situation  in  which  he  found  himself,  but  he  spoke 
earnestly  and  collectedly,  nevertheless.  He  had  an  experience 
of  British  law  which,  if  not  without  precedent,  was  still  extra- 
ordinary enough  to  create  amazement.  He  knew  that  he  had 
never  been  a  Fenian ;  he  knew  that  he  never  saw  Colonel 
Kelly — never  heard  of  him  until  arrested  for  assisting  in  his 
liberation:  he  knew  that  while  the  van  was  being  attacked  hX 


2^4  ^-^^   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

Bellevue,  he  was  sitting  in  his  own  home,  miles  away ;  and  he 
knew  that  he  never  in  his  life  placed  his  foot  in  the  scene  of 
the  rescue ;  yet  there  he  found  himself  convicted  by  regular 
process  of  law,  of  the  murder  of  Constable  Brett.  He  had  seen 
witness  after  witness  enter  the  box,  and  deliberately  swear  they 
saw  him  take  a  prominent  part  in  the  rescue.  He  saw  police- 
men and  civilians  coolly  identify  him  as  a  ringleader  in  the  af- 
fair; he  had  heard  the  crown  lawyers  weave  round  him  the 
subtle  meshes  of  their  logic;  and  now  he  heard  himself  pro- 
nounced guilty  by  the  jury,  in  the  teeth  of  the  overwhelming 
array  of  unimpeachable  evidence  brought  forward  in  his  de- 
fence. What  "  the  safeguards  of  the  Constitution"  mean — 
what  "  the  bulwark  of  English  freedom"  and  ''  the  Palladium 
of  British  freedom"  are  worth,  when  Englishmen  fill  the  jury, 
box  and  an  Irishman  stands  in  the  dock,  Maguire  had  had  a 
fair  opportunity  of  judging.  Had  he  been  reflectively  inclined, 
he  might,  too,  have  found  himself  compelled  to  adopt  a  rather 
low  estimate  of  the  credibility  of  English  witnesses,  when  they 
get  an  opportunity  of  swearing  away  an  Irishman's  life.  An 
impetuous  man  might  have  been  goaded  by  the  circumstances 
into  cursing  the  atrocious  system  under  which  "justice"  had 
been  administered  to  him,  and  calling  down  the  vengeance  of 
Heaven  on  the  whole  nation  from  which  the  perjured  wretches 
who  swore  away  his  life  had  been  drawn.  But  Maguire  acted 
more  discreetly;  he  began,  indeed,  by  declaring  that  all 
the  witnesses  who  swore  against  him  were  perjurers — by 
vehemently  protesting  that  the  case,  as  regarded  him,  was  one 
of  mistaken  identity;  but  he  shortly  took  surer  ground,  by  re- 
ferring to  his  services  in  the  navy,  and  talking  of  his  unfailing 
loyalty  to  "  his  Queen  and  his  country."  He  went  through  the 
record  of  his  services  as  a  marine ;  appealed  to  the  character 
he  had  obtained  from  his  commanding  officers,  in  confirmation 
of  his  words ;  and  concluded  by  solemnly  protesting  his  perfect 
innocence  of  the  charge  on  which  he  had  been  convicted. 

While  Maguire*s  impressive  words  were  still  ringing  in  the 
ears  of  his  conscience-stricken  accusers,  Edward  O'Meaghef 


TME  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  265 

Condon  commenced  to  speak.  He  was  evidently  more  of  an 
orator  than  either  of  those  who  had  preceded  him,  and  he 
spoke  with  remarkable  fluency,  grace,  and  vigor.  The  sub- 
joined is  a  correct  report  of  his  spirited  and  able  address: — 

'*  My  Lords, — This  has  come  upon  me  somewhat  by  surprise.  It  ap- 
peared to  me  rather  strange  that  upon  any  amount  of  evidence,  which 
of  course  was  false,  a  man  could  hav^e  been  convicted  of  wilfully  mur- 
dering others  he  never  saw  or  heard  of  before  he  was  put  in  prison. 
I  do  not  care  to  detain  your  lordships,  but  I  cannot  help  remarking 
that  Mr.  Shaw,  who  has  come  now  to  gloat  upon  his  victims,  after 
having  sworn  away  their  lives — that  man  has  sworn  what  is  altogether 
^Ise  ;  and  there  are  contradictions  in  the  depositions  which  have  not 
been  brought  before  your  lordships'  notice.  I  suppose  the  despositions 
/)eing  imperfect,  there  was  no  necessity  for  it.  As  to  Mr.  Batty,  he 
swore  at  his  first  examination  before  the  magistrtaes  that  a  large  stone 
fell  on  me,  a  stone  which  Mr.  Roberts  said  at  the  time  would  have 
killed  an  elephant.  But  not  the  slightest  mark  was  found  on  my  head; 
and  if  I  was  to  go  round  the  country,  and  him  with  me,  as  exhibiting 
the  stone  having  fallen  on  me,  and  him  as  the  man  who  would  swear 
to  it,  I  do  not  know  which  would  be  looked  for  with  the  most  earnest- 
ness. However,  it  has  been  accepted  by  the  jury.  Now,  he  says  he 
only  thinks  so.  There  is  another  matter  to  consider.  I  have  been 
sworn  to,  I  believe,  by  some  of  the  witnesses,  who  have  also  sworn  to 
others,  though  some  of  them  can  prove  they  were  in  another  city  alto- 
gether— in  Liverpool.  Others  have  an  overwhelming  alibi^  and  I  should 
by  right  have  been  tried  with  them;  but  I  suppose  your  lordships 
cannot  help  that.  We  have  for  instance,  Thomas,  the  policeman, 
who  swore  to  another  prisoner.  He  identified  him  on  a  certain  day, 
and  the  prisoner  was  not  arrested  for  two  days  afterwards.  As  for 
Thomas,  I  do  not  presume  that  any  jury  could  have  believed  him. 
He  had  heard  of  the  blood-money,  and  of  course  was  prepared 
to  bid  pretty  high  for  it.  My  alibi  has  not  been  strong,  and  unfortu- 
nately I  was  not  strong  in  pocket,  and  was  not  able  to  produce  more 
testimony  to  prove  where  I  was  at  exactly  that  time.  With  regard  to 
the  unfortunate  man  who  has  lost  his  life,  I  sympathize  with  him  and 
his  family  as  deeply  as  your  lordships,  or  the  jury,  or  any  one  in  the 
court.  I  deeply  regret  the  unfortunate  occurrence,  but  I  am  as  per- 
fectly innocent  of  his  blood  as  any  man,  I  never  had  the  slightest 
intention  of  taking  life.  I  have  done  nothing  at  all  in  connection 
with  that  man,  and  I  do  not  desire  to  be  accused  of  a  murder  which  I 
have  not  committed.  With  regard  to  another  matter,  my  learned 
counsel  has,  no  doubt  for  the  best,  expressed  some  opinions  on  these 
matters,  and  the  misgovernment  to  which  my  country  has  been  sub- 
jected.    I  am  firmly  convinced  there  is  prejudice  in  the  minds  of  the 


266  THE   DOCIt  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

people,  and  it  has  been  increased  and  excited  by  the  newspapers,  or 
by  some  of  them,  and  to  a  certain  extent  has  influenced  the  minds  of 
the  jury  to  convict  the  men  standing  in  this  dock,  on  a  charge  of  which 
— a  learned  gentleman  remarked  a  few  nights  since — they  would  be 
acquitted  if  they  had  been  charged  with  murdering  an  old  woman  for 
the  sake  of  the  money  in  her  pocket,  but  a  political  offence  of  this 
kind  they  could  not.  Now,  sir,  with  regard  to  the  opinions  I  hold  on 
national  matters — with  regard  to  those  men  who  have  been  released 
from  that  van,  in  which,  unfortunately,  life  was  lost,  I  am  of  opinion 
that  certainly  to  some  extent  there  was  an  excuse.  Perhaps  it  was  un- 
thought,  but  if  those  men  had  been  in  other  countries,  occupying  other 
positions — if  Jefferson  Davis  had  been  released  in  a  northern  city, 
there  would  be  a  cry  of  applause  throughout  all  England.  If  Gari- 
baldi, who  I  saw  before  I  was  shut  out  from  the  world,  had  been  ar- 
rested, was  released,  or  something  of  that  kind  had  taken  place,  they 
would  have  applauded  the  bravery  of  the  act.  If  the  captives  of  King 
Theodore  had  been  released,  that,  too,  would  have  been  applauded. 
But,  as  it  happened  to  be  in  England,  of  course  it  is  an  awful  thing, 
while  yet  in  Ireland  murders  are  perpetrated  on  unoffending  men,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  riots  in  Waterford,  where  an  unoffending  man  was 
murdered,  and  no  one  was  punished  for  it.  I  do  not  desire  to  detain 
your  lordships.  I  can  only  say  that  I  leave  this  world  without  a  stain 
on  my  conscience  that  I  have  been  wilfully  guilty  of  anything  in  con- 
nection with  the  death  of  Sergeant  Brttt.  I  am  totally  guiltless.  I 
leave  this  world  without  malice  to  any  one.  I  do  not  accuse  the  jury, 
but  I  believe  they  were  prejudiced.  I  don't  accuse  them  of  wilfully 
wishing  to  convict,  but  prejudice  has  induced  them  to  convict  when 
they  otherwise  would  not  have  done.  With  reference  to  the  witnesses, 
every  one  of  them  has  sworn  falsely.  I  never  threw  a  stone,  or  fired  a 
pistol  ;  I  was  never  at  the  place,  as  they  have  said;  it  is  all  totally 
false.  But  as  I  have  to  go  before  my  God,  I  forgive  them.  They 
will  be  able  to  meet  me,  some  day,  before  that  God  who  is  to  judge 
us  all,  and  then  they,  and  the  people  in  this  court,  and  every  one,  will 
know  who  tells  the  truth.  Had  I  committed  anything  against  the 
crown  of  England,  I  would  have  scorned  myself  had  I  attempted 
to  deny  it;  but  with  regard  to  those  men,  they  have  sworn  what 
is  altogether  false.  Had  I  been  an  Englishman,  and  arrested 
near  the  scene  of  that  disturbance,  I  would  have  been  brought  as  a 
witness  to  identify  them;  but,  being  an  Irishman,  it  was  supposed  my 
sympathy  was  with  them,  and  on  suspicion  of  that  sympathy  I  was  ar- 
rested, and  in  consequence  of  the  arrest,  and  the  rewards  which  were 
offered,  I  was  identified.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  As  I  said  before, 
my  opinions  on  national  matters  do  not  at  all  relate  to  the  case  before 
your  lordships.  We  have  been  found  guilty,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
we  accept  our  death  as  gracefully  as  possible.  We  are  not  afraid  to 
die — at  least  I  am  not." 


TME  DOCK  AND    THE  SCAFFOLD.  26J 

''Nor  I/'  "Nor  I,"  "Nor  I,"  swelled  up  from  the  lips  o! 
his  companions ;  and  then,  with  a  proud  smile,  Condon  con« 
tinned : — 

"  I  have  no  sin  or  stain  upon  me ;  and  I  leave  this  world  at  peace 
mih.  all.  With  regard  to  the  other  prisoners  who  are  to  be  tried  after- 
wards, I  hope  our  blood  at  least  will  satisfy  the  craving  for  it.  \ 
hope  our  blood  will  be  enough,  and  that  those  men  who  I  honestly 
believe  are  guiltless  of  the  blood  of  that  man — that  the  other  batches 
will  get  a  fair,  free,  and  a  more  impartial  trial.  We  view  niatters  in  a 
different  light  from  what  the  jury  do.  We  have  been  imprisoned,  and 
have  not  had  the  advantage  of  understanding  exactly  to  what  this  ex- 
citement has  led.  I  can  only  hope  and  pray  that  this  prejudice  will 
disappear — that  my  poor  country  will  right  herself  some  day,  and  that 
her  people,  so  far  from  being  looked  upon  with  scorn  and  aversion, 
will  receive  what  they  are  entitled  to,  the  respect  not  only  of  the 
civilized  world,  but  of  Englishmen.  I,  too,  am  an  American  citizen, 
and  on  English  territory  I  have  committed  no  crime  which  makes  me 
amenable  to  the  crown  of  England.  I  have  done  nothing ;  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  I  did  expect  protection — as  this  gentleman  (poind- 
ing to  Allen)  has  said,  the  protection  of  the  ambassador  of  my  govern- 
ment. I  am  a  citizen  of  the  State  of  Ohio  ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  my 
name  is  not  Shore.  My  name  is  Edward  O'Meagher  Condon.  I  be- 
long to  Ohio,  and  there  are  loving  hearts  there  that  will  be  sorry  for 
this.  I  have  nothing  but  my  best  wishes  to  send  them,  and  my  best 
feelings,  and  assure  them  I  can  die  as  a  Christian  and  an  Irishman  ; 
and  that  I  am  not  ashamed  or  afraid  of  anything  I  have  done,  or  the 
consequences,  before  God  or  man.  They  would  be  ashamed  of  me  if 
I  was  in  the  slightest  degree  a  coward,  or  concealed  my  opinions.  The 
unfortunate  divisions  of  our  countrymen  in  America  have,  to  a  certain 
extent,  neutralized  the  efforts  that  we  have  made  either  in  one  direc- 
tion or  another  for  the  liberation  of  our  country.  All  these  things  have 
been  thwarted,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  we  must  only  submit  to  our 
fate.  I  only  trust  again,  that  those  who  are  to  be  tried  after  us  will 
have  a  fair  trial,  and  that  our  blood  will  satisfy  the  cravings  which  I 
understand  exist.  You  will  soon  send  us  before  God,  and  I  am 
perfectly  prepared  to  go.  I  have  nothing  to  regret,  or  to  retract,  ot 
take  back.     I  can  only  say,  God  save  Ireland." 

Again  were   the  voices  of  his  companions  raised  in  unison, 
'*  God  save  Ireland  !"  they  cried  defiantly,  in  chorus.     '*  God 
save   Ireland  !"       The   cry  rung  through   the  packed    justice- 
hall,  and    fell   on   the  ears   of  its  blood-thirsty  occupants  like 
the  voice  of  an  accusing  angel.     **  God  save  Ireland  I"   they 


268  ^^^  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

said  ;  and  then  the  brave-hearted  fellows  gazed  fiercely 
around  the  hostile  gathering,  as  if  daring  them  to  interfere 
with  the  prayer.  "  God  save  Ireland !" — from  the  few  broken- 
hearted relatives  who  listened  to  the  patriots'  prayer;  the  re- 
sponsive *' Amen"  was  breathed  back,  and  the  dauntless  young 
Irishman  continued: 

"  I  wish  to  add  a  word  or  two.  There  is  nothing  in  the  close  of 
my  political  career  which  I  regret.  I  don't  know  of  one  act  which 
could  bring  the  blush  of  shame  to  my  face,  or  make  me  afraid  to 
meet  my  God  or  fellow-man.  I  would  be  most  happy,  and  nothing 
would  give  me  greater  pleasure,  than  to  die  on  the  field  for  my 
country,  in  defence  of  her  liberty.  As  it  is,  I  cannot  die  on  the  field, 
but  1  can  die  on  the  scaffold,  I  hope,  as  a  soldier,  a  man,  and  a 
Christian." 

And  now  the  last  was  spoken.  As  true  Irishmen  and  as 
true  patriots  they  had  borne  themselves.  No  trace  of  flinch- 
ing did  they  give  for  their  enemies  to  gloat  over — no  sign  of 
weakness  which  could  take  from  the  effect  of  their  deathless 
words.  With  bold  front  and  steady  mien  they  stood  forward 
to  listen  to  the  fatal  decree  their  judges  were  ready  to  pro- 
nounce. The  judges  produced  the  black  caps,  with  which 
they  had  come  provided,  and  then  Justice  Mellor  proceeded 
to  pass  sentence.  No  person,  he  said,  who  had  witnessed 
the  proceedings,  could  doubt  the  propriety  of  the  verdict, 
which,  he  insisted,  was  the  result  of  ''  a  full,  patient,  and  im- 
partial investigation."  He  made  no  distinction.  *'  I  am  perfectly 
convinced,"  he  said,  ''  that  all  of  you  had  resolved,  at  any 
risk,  and  by  any  amount  of  dangerous  violence  and  outrage,  to 
accomplish  your  object;  and  that,  in  fact,  Charles  Brett  was 
murdered  because  it  was  essential  to  the  completion  of  your 
common  design  that  he  should  be."  The  stereotyped  words 
of  exhortation  to  repentance  followed,  and  the  judge  con- 
cluded : — 

"The  sentence  is  that  you,  and  each  of  you,  be  taken  hence  to  the 
place  whence  you  came,  and  thence  to  a  place  of  execution,  and  that 
you  be  there  hanged  by  the  neck  until  you  shall  be  dead,  and  thai 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


269 


your  Lodies  be  afterwards  buried  within  the  precincts  of  the  prison 
wherein  you  were  last  confined  after  your  respective  convictions  ;  and 
may  God,  in  His  infinite  mercy,  have  mercy  upon  you." 

With  quiet  composure  the  doomed  men  heard  the  words. 
They  warmly  shook  hands  with  their  counsel,  thanked  them  for 
their  exertions,  and  then,  looking  towards  the  spot  where  their 
weeping  friends  were  seated,  they  turned  to  leave  the  dock. 
"  God  be  with  you.  Irishmen  and  Irishwomen !"  they  cried, 
and,  as  they  disappeared  from  the  court,  their  final  adieu 
was  heard  in  the  same  prayer  that  had  swelled  upwards  tc 
heaven  from  them  before — 

"God  save  Ireland!" 

Scarcely  had  the  Ivianchester  court-house  ceased  to  echo 
those  voices  from  the  dock,  when  the  glaring  falseness  of  the 
verdict  became  the  theme  of  comment  amongst  even  the  most 
thorough-going  Englishmen  who  had  been  present  throughout 
the  trial. 

Without  more  ado,  down  sate  some  thirty  or  forty  reporters 
who,  as  representatives  of  the  English  metropolitan  and 
provincial  press,  had  attended  the  Commission,  and  addressed 
a  memorial  to  the  Home  Secretary,  stating  that  they  had  been 
long  used  to  attend  at  trials  on  capital  charges;  that  they 
had  extensive  experience  of  such  cases,  from  personal  observa- 
tion of  prisoners  in  the  dock,  and  witnesses  on  the  table ;  and 
that  they  were  solemnly  convinced,  the  swearing  of  the  wit- 
nesses, and  the  verdict  of  the  jury  to  the  contrary  notwith- 
standing, that  the  man  Maguire  had  neither  hand,  act,  nor  part 
in  the  crime  for  which  he  had  been  sentenced  to  death.  The 
following  is  the  petition  referred  to  : — 

"We,  the  undersigned,  members  of  the  metropolitan  and  provincial 
press,  having  had  long  experience  in  courts  of  justice,  and  full  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  the  demeanor  of  prisoners  and  witnesses  in  cases 
of  criminal  procedure,  beg  humbly  to  submit  that,  having  heard  the 
evidence  adduced  before  the  Special  Commission,  on  the  capital  charge 
preferred  against  Thomas  Maguire,  private  in  the  Royal  Marines  w? 


270 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


conscientiously  believe  that  the  said  Thomas  Maguire  is  innocent  ol 
the  crime  of  which  he  has  been  convicted,  and  that  his  conviction  has 
resulted  from  mistaken  identity.  We,  therefore,  pray  that  you  will 
be  pleased  to  advise  her  Majesty  to  grant  her  most  gracious  pardon 
to  the  said  Thomas  Maguire." 

This  was  a  startling  event;  it  was  a  proceeding  utterly  with- 
out precedent.  Nothing  but  the  most  extraordinary  circum- 
stances could  have  called  it  forth.  The  blunder  of  the  jury 
must  have  been  open,  glaring,  painfully  notorious,  indeed, 
when  such  an  astonishing  course  was  adopted  by  the  whole 
staff  of  the  English  press. 

It  was  most  embarrassing.  For  what  had  those  newspaper 
reporters  seen  or  heard  that  the  jurors  had  not  seen  and 
heard? — and  yet  the  jurors  said  Maguire  was  guilty.  What 
had  those  reporters  seen  or  heard  that  the  judges  had  not 
seen  and  heard? — and  yet  the  judges  said  they  ''fully  con- 
curred in  the  verdict  of  the  jury."  The  reporters  were 
not  sworn  on  the  evangelists  of  God  to  give  a  true  deliv- 
erance— but  the  jurors  were.  The  reporters  were  not  sworn  to 
administer  justice — were  not  dressed  in  ermine — were  not 
bound  to  be  men  of  legal  ability,  judicial  calmness,  wisdom,  and 
impartiality — but  the  judges  were.  Vjt  the  unsworn  reporters 
told  the  government  Maguire  was  an  innocent  man ;  while 
judge  and  jury  told  the  government — swore  to  it — that  he  was 
a  guilty  murderer! 

What  was  the  government  to  do  ?  Was  it  to  act  on  the  verdict 
of  newspaper  reporters  who  had  happened  to  be  present  at  this 
trial,  and  not  on  the  verdict  of  the  jury  who  had  been  solemnly 
sworn  in  the  case?  Behind  the  reporters'  verdict  lay  the  huge 
sustaining  power  of  almost  universal  conviction,  mysteriously 
felt  and  owned,  though  as  yet  nowhere  expressed.  Every  one 
who  had  calmly  and  dispassionately  weighed  the  evidence  ar- 
rived at  conclusions  identical  with  those  of  the  press  jury,  and 
utterly  opposed  to  those  of  the  sworn  jury.  The  ministers 
themselves — it  was  a  terribly  embarrassing  truth  to  own — felt 
that  the  reporters  were  as  surely  right  as  the  jurors  werx-  surely 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  271 

wrong.  But  what  were  they  to  do?  What  a  frightful  imputation 
would  public  admission  of  that  fact  cast  upon  the  twelve  sworn 
jurors — upon  the  two  judges?  What  a  damning  imputation  on 
their  judgment  or  their  impartiality  !  Was  it  to  be  admitted  that 
newspaper  reporters  could  be  right  in  a  case  so  awful,  where 
twelve  sworn  jurors  and  two  judges  were  wrong? 

And  then,  look  at  the  consequences.    The  five  men  were  con- 
victed in  the  one  verdict.     There  were  not  five  separate  ver- 
dicts, but  one  indivisible  verdict.     If  the  (jurors')  verdict  were 
publicly  vitiated — if   the    government    confessed    or  admitted 
that  verdict  to  be  false — it  was  not  one  man,  but  five  men  who 
were  affected  by  it.     To  be  sur.^  the    reporters'  jury,  in  their 
verdict,  did  not  include  Allen,  O  Brien,  Larkin,  and  Shore;  but 
was  it  to  be  conveyed  by  implication   that   omission  from  the 
reporters'  verdict  of   acquittal  was  more    fatal  to  a  man  than 
inclusion  in  the  verdict  of  guilty  by  a  sworn  jury  ?     Might  not 
twenty,  or  thirty,  or  forty  men,  quite   as  intelligent  as  report- 
ers, be  soon  forthcoming  to  testify  as  forcibly  of  Allen,  O'Brien, 
Larkin,  and  Shore,  as  the  press-men  had  testified  of  Maguire? 
Was  it    only  reporters  whose    judgment    could    set    aside   the 
verdict  of   sworn    jurors,   endorsed  by  ermined  judges?     But, 
in  any  event,  the  five  men  were    convicted    by  the   one  ver- 
dict.    To  cut  that,  loosed  all — not  necessarily  in  law,  perhaps, 
but    inevitably  as   regarded    public    conscience   and    universal 
judgment ;  for  there  was  not  in  all  the  records  of  English  juris- 
prudence a  precedent  for  executing  men  on  a  verdict  acknowl- 
edged to  have  been  one  of  blunder  or  perjury.     Clearly,  if  the 
jurors  were  to  be  told  by  the  government,  that,  in  a  case  where 
life  and  death  hung  on  the  issue,  they  had  been  so  blinded  by 
excitement,  passion,  or  prejudice,  that  they  declared  to  be  a 
guilty  murderer,  a  man  whose  innocence  was  patent  even  to  un- 
official lookers-on  in  the  court,  the  moral  value  of  such  a  verdict 
was  gone — ruined  forever ;  and  to  hang  any  one  on  such  a  verdict 
■^on  that  identical  verdict^  thus  blasted  and  abandoned — would,  it 
was  pointed  out,  be  murder,  for  all  its  technical  legality ;  neither 
more  nor  less,  morally,  than  cool,  deliberate,cold-blooded  murder. 


272 


THE  DOCX  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


Everybody  saw  this ;  but  every  one  in  England  saw  also  the 
awkward  difficulty  of  the  case.  For,  to  let  Allen,  O'Brien, 
Larkin,  and  Shore  go  free  of  death,  in  the  face  of  their  admit- 
ted complicity  in  the  rescue,  would  balk  the  national  demand 
for  vengeance.  It  was  necessary  that  some  one  should  be  exe- 
cuted. Here  were  men,  who,  though  they  almost  certainly  had 
no  hand  in  causing,  even  accidentally,  the  death  of  Brett,  dared  to 
boast  of  their  participation  in  the  affray  in  the  course  of  which 
that  lamentable  event  unhappily  occurred — that  rescue  which 
had*  so  painfully  wounded  and  humiliated  English  national 
pride.  If  these  men  were  saved  from  execution,  owing  to  any 
foolish  scruples  about  hanging  a  possibly — nay,  probably — in- 
nocent man  along  with  them,  a  shout  of  rage  would  ascend 
from  that  virtuous  nation,  amongst  whom  Charlotte  Winsor^ 
the  professional  infant  murderess,  walks  a  free  woman,  notwith- 
standing a  jury's  verdict  of  wilful  murder  and  a  judge's  sen- 
tence of  death. 

So,  for  a  time  it  seemed  that,  notwithstanding  the  verdict  of 
the  reporters,  the  government  would  act  upon  the  verdict  of 
the  jury,  and  assume  it  to  be  correct.  No  doubt  Maguire 
might  be  innocent,  but  it  was  his  misfortune  to  be  included  in 
an  indivisible  verdict  with  other  men,  who,  though  perhaps  as 
guiltless  as  he  of  wilful  murder,  were  surely  guilty  of  riot  and 
rescue,  aggravated  by  the  utterance  of  the  most  bitter  reflec- 
tions on  the  British  Constitution,  which  all  nie:;  know  to  be  the 
*'  envy  of  surrounding  nations."  If  they  were  not  guilty  of 
the  crime  laid  against  them  on  the  trial,  they  were  guilty  of 
something  else — they  had  outraged  British  pride.  It  was  nec- 
essary they  should  die ;  and  as  Maguire's  verdict  was  not  sep- 
arate from  their's,  he  must  die,  too,  rather  than  that  they  should 
escape. 

But  after  a  while  the  idea  gained  ground  in  England  that 
this  would  be  rather  too  monstrous  a  proceeding.  Maguire's 
utter  innocence  of  any  participation  whatsoever  in  the  rescue 
was  too  notorious.  The  character  of  the  witnesses  on  whose 
evidence  he  was  convicted  became  known ;  some  were  thieve^ 


THE  DOCK  AND   THE   SCAFFOLD. 


273 


pickpoclcets,  or  gaol-birds  of  some  other  denomination ;  others 
were  persons  palpably  confused  by  panic,  excitement,  passion, 
or  prejudice.  True,  these  same  witn  jsses  w  re  those  who  like- 
wise swore  against  Allen,  Larkin,  O  Biiei-,  and  Shore.  Indeed, 
a  greater  number  swore  against  Magu  than  against  some  of 
the  others.  Neverth^l  .  ;,  the  overwhelming  notoriety  of  the 
jury's  blunder  or  perjury,  in  at  least  his  case,  became  daily 
more  and  more  an  obstacle  to  his  execution  ;  and  eventually, 
on  the  2ist  of  November,  it  was  announced  that  his  conviction 
had  been  cancelled,  by  the  only  means  existing  under  the  per- 
fect laws  of  Great  Britian — namely,  a  **  free  pardon'*  for  a  crime 
never  committed.  The  prison  doors  were  opened  for  Maguire; 
the  sworn  jurors  were  plainly  told  in  effect  that  their  blunder 
or  perjury  had  well-nigh  done  the  murder  of  at  least  one  inno- 
cent man.  The  judges  were  m  like  manner  told  that  short-hand 
writers  had  been  more  clear-headed  or  dispassionate  to  weigh 
evidence  and  judge  guilt  than  they.  The  indivisible  verdict 
had  been  openly  proclaimed  worthless. 

The  news  was  received  with  a  sense  of  relief  in  Ireland,  where 
the  wholesale  recklessness  of  the  swearing,  and  the  transparent 
falseness  of  the  verdict  had,  from  the  first,  created  intense  in- 
dignation and  resentment.  Every  one  xnew  and  saw  that,  what- 
ever might  have  been  the  participation  of  those  men  in  the 
rescue  of  Col.  Kelly,  they  had  not  had  a  fair  trial ;  nay,  that 
their  so-called  trial  was  an  outrage  on  all  law  and  justice ;  that 
witnesses,  jurors,  and  judges  were  in  the  full  fierce  heat  of  ex- 
citement, panic,  and  passion — much  more  ready  to  swear  evi- 
dence, to  find  verdicts,  and  to  pass  sentences  against  innocent 
men  than  they  themselves  were,  perhaps,  conscious  of,  while 
laboring  under  such  influences.  The  public  and  official  recog- 
nition of  the  falseness  and  injustice  of  the  Manchester  verdict 
was  therefore  hailed  with  intense  satisfaction. 

Maguire  was  at  once  liberated  ;  Allen,  Larkin,  Shore,  and 
O'Brien  were  still  detained  in  custody.  It  was  universally  con. 
eluded  that,  notwithstanding  the  abandonment  by  the  crown 
of  the  verdict  on  which  they  had  been  sentenced,  they,  because 


274 


TME  DOCK  AND   THE,   SCAFFOLD, 


of  their  admitted  complicity  in  the  rescue,  would  be  held  to 
imprisonment — probably  penal  servitude — for  a  term  of  years. 
Considerable  astonishment  was  excited,  some  days  subse. 
quentlyto  Maguire's  pardon,  by  a  statement  that,  in  the  case  of 
the  other  prisoners  included  in  the  verdict,  "  the  law  should  take 
its  course."  No  one  credited  this  declaration  for  an  instant,  and 
most  persons  felt  that  the  crown  officials  were  indulging  in  an 
indecent  piece  of  mockery.  Amidst  the  universal  incredulity 
however — this  disdainful  and  indignant  disbelief — the  pris- 
oners' solicitor,  Mr.  Roberts,  vigilant  and  untiring  to  the  last, 
took  the  necessary  steps  to  pray  arrest  of  execution  pending 
decision  of  the  serious  law  points  raised  on  the  trial.  Some 
of  the  most  eminent  counsel  in  England  certified  solemnly  that 
these  points  were  of  the  gravest  nature,  and  would,  in  their 
opinion,  be  fully  established  on  argument  before  the  judges ; 
in  which  event  the  conviction  would  be  legally  quashed,  nide- 
pendently  of  the  substantial  abandonment  of  it  as  false  and 
untenable  by  the  crown  in  Maguire's  case. 

The  first  idea  of  the  merest  possibility — the  faintest  chance 
—of  the  remaining  four  men  being  executed  on  the  vitiated 
verdict,  arose  when  it  became  known  that  the  judges,  or  some 
of  them,  had  informally  declared  to  the  government  (without 
waiting  to  hear  any  argument  on  the  subject)  that  the  points 
raised  by  the  prisoners'  counsel  were  not  tenable,  or  were  not 
of  force.  Mr.  Roberts  was  ofificially  informed  that  the  sentence 
would  infallibly  be  carried  out.  By  this  time  barely  a  few  days 
remained  of  the  interval  previous  to  the  date  fixed  for  the  exe- 
cution, and  the  strangest  sensations  swayed  the  public  mind  in 
Ireland.  Even  still,  no  one  would  seriously  credit  that  men 
would  be  put  to  death  on  a  verdict  notoriously  false.  Some 
persons  who  proposed  memorials  to  the  Queen  were  met  on  all 
hands  with  the  answer  that  it  was  all  ''  acting"  on  the  part  of 
the  government ;  that,  even  though  it  should  be  at  the  foot  of 
the  scaffold,  the  men  would  be  reprieved ;  that  the  government 
would  not — dare  not — takeaway  human  life  on  a  verdict  already 
vitiated  and  abandoned  aa  a  perjury  or  blunder. 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE  SCAFFOLD.  275 

The  day  of  doom  approached ;  and  now,  as  it  came  nearer 
and  nearer,  a  pain/ul  and  sickening  alternation  of  incredulity 
and  horror  surged  through  every  Irish  heart.  Meanwhile,  the 
press  of  England,  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel,  kept  up  a 
ceaseless  cry  for  blood.  The  government  were  told  that  to  let 
these  men  off,  innocent  or  guilty,  would  be  *'  weakness."  They 
were  called  upon  to  be  "  firm" — that  is,  to  hang  first,  and  reflect 
afterwards.  As  the  23rd  of  November  drew  near,  the  opinion 
began  to  gain  ground,  even  in  England,  that  these  things  had 
been  too  hastily  done — that  the  whole  trial  bore  all  the  traces  of 
panic — and  that,  if  a  few  weeks  were  given  for  alarm  and  pas- 
sion to  calm  down,  not  a  voice  would  approve  the  Manchester 
verdict.  Perceiving  this — perceiving  that  time  or  opportunity 
for  reflection,  or  for  the  subsidence  of  panic,  would  almost  cer- 
tainly snatch  its  prey  from  vengeance — a  deafening  yell  arose 
from  the  raving  creatures  of  blood-hunger,  demanding  that  not 
a  day,  not  an  hour,  not  a  second,  should  be  granted  to  the 
condemned. 

Still  the  Irish  people  would  not  credit  that,  far  towards  the 
close  of  the  nineteenth     century,  an  act  so  dreadful  durst  be 

done. 

During  all  this  time  the  condemned  lay  in  Salford  gaol,  tor- 
tured by  the  suspense  inevitably  created  by  Maguire's  reprieve. 
Although  every  effort  was  made  by  their  friends  to  keep  them 
from  grasping  at  or  indulging  in  hope,  the  all-significant  fact  of 
that  release  seemed  to  imperatively  forbid  the  idea  of  their 
being  executed  on  a  verdict  whose  falseness  was  thus  confessed. 
The  moment,  however,  that  the  singular  conduct  of  the  judges 
in  London  defeated  the  application  of  Mr.  Roberts,  they,  one 
and  all,  resigned  themselves  to  the  worst  ;  and  while  their 
fellow-countrymen  at  home  were  still  utterly  and  scornfully  in- 
credulous on  the  subject,  devoted  their  remaining  hours  exclu- 
sively to  spiritual  preparation  for  death  upon  the  scaffold. 

It  was  now  that  each  character  "  rushed  to  its  index."  It 
was  now — within  the  very  shadow  of  death — in  the  most  awful 
crisis  that  can   test  the  soul— that  these  men  rose   into  the 


2j6  THE  DOCK  AND   TBS  SCAFFOLD 

grandeur  and  sublimity  of  true  heroism.  They  looked  death 
in  the  face  with  serene  and  cheerful  composure.  So  far  from 
requiring  consolation,  it  was  they  who  strove  most  earnestly  to 
console  the  grieving  friends  they  were  leaving  behind  ;  implor- 
ing of  them  to  exhibit  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  and  assur- 
ing them  that,  ignominious  as  was  death  upon  the  gallows,  and 
terrible  as  was  the  idea  of  suffering  such  a  fate  unjustly,  it  wag 
''  not  hard  to  die"  with  a  clear  and  tranquil  conscience,  as  they 
were  dying,  for  the  cause  of  native  land. 

It  may  be  questioned  whether  the  martyrology  of  any  nation 
in  history  can  exhibit  anything  more  noble,  more  edifying — 
more  elevating  and  inspiring — than  the  last  hours  of  these 
doomed  Irishmen.  Their  every  thought,  their  every  utterance, 
was  full  of  tenderness  and  holiness — full  of  firmness  and  cheer- 
ful acceptance  of  God's  will.  The  farewell  letters  addressed 
by  them  to  their  relatives  and  friends — from  which  we  take  a 
few — amply  illustrate  the  truth  of  the  foregoing  observations. 
Here  is  O'Brien's  last  letter  to  his  brother: — 

*'New  Bailey  Prison,  Salford,  Nov.  14  1867. 

"  My  Dei  r  Brother,— I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you  for 
some  time,  but  having  seen  a  letter  from  a  Mr.  Moore,  addressed  to 
the  governor  of  this  prison,  and  knowing  from  that  that  you  must  be 
in  a  disagreeable  state  of  suspense,  I  may  therefore  let  you  know  ho\v 
I  am  at  once.  With  reference  to  the  trial,  and  all  connected  with  it, 
it  was  unfair  from  beginning  to  end;  and  if  I  should  die  in  conse- 
quence it  will  injure  my  murderers  more  than  it  will  injure  me.  Why 
should  I  fear  to  die,  innocent  as  I  am  of  the  charge  which  a  prejudiced 
jury,  assisted  by  perjured  witnesses,  found  me  guilty  of?  I  will  do 
judge  and  jury  the  justice  of  saying  they  believe  me  guilty  of  being — 
a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  a  friend  to  liberty,  a  hater  of  relentless 
cruelty,  and  therefore  no  friend  to  the  British  government,  as  it  exists 
in  our  beautiful  island.  I  must  say,  though  much  I  would  like  to  live, 
that  I  cannot  regret  dying  in  the  cause  of  Liberty  and  Ireland.  It 
has  been  made  dear  to  me  by  the  sufferings  of  its  people,  by  the  mar, 
tyrdom  and  exile  of  its  best  ar.d  noblest  sons.  The  priest,  the  scholar, 
the  soldier,  the  saint,  have  suffered  and  died  proudly,  nobly;  and  why 
should  I  shrink  from  death  in  a  cause  made  holy  and  glorious  by  the 
number  of  its  martyrs  and  the  heroism  of  its  supporters,  as  well  as  by 
its  justice?  You  don't,  and  never  shall,  forget  that  Peter  O'Neal 
Crowley  died  only  a  short  time  since  in  this  cause. 


TMB  DOCK  AND   THE  SCAFFOLD.  377 

** '  Far  dearer  the  grave  or  the  prison, 
Illum'd  by  one  patriot  name, 
Than  the  trophies  of  all  who  have  risen 
On  liberty's  ruins  to  fame.' 

I  should  feel  ashamed  of  my  manhood  if  I  thought  myself  capable 
of  doing  anything  mean  to  save  my  life,  to  get  out  of  here,  or  for  any 
other  selfish  purpose.  Let  no  man  think  a  cause  is  lost  because  some 
suffer  for  it.  It  is  only  a  proof  that  those  who  suffer  are  in  earnest 
and  should  be  an  incentive  to  others  to  be  equally  so — to  do  their  duty 
with  firmness,  justice,  and  disinterestedness.  I  feel  confident  of  the 
ultimate  success  of  the  Irish  cause,  as  I  do  of  my  own  existence.  God,  in 
His  great  mercy  and  goodness,  will  strengthen  the  arm  of  the  patriot, 
and  give  him  wisdom  to  free  his  country.  Let  us  hope  that  He,  in 
His  wisdom,  is  only  trying  our  patience.  The  greater  its  sufferings, 
the  more  glorious  will  He  make  the  future  of  our  unfortunate  country 
and  its  people. 

"  The  shriek  of  the  famine-stricken  mother  and  the  helpless  infant, 
as  well  as  the  centuries  of  misery,  call  to  Heaven  for  vengeance.  God 
is  slow,  but  just !  The  blood  of  Tone,  Fitzgerald,  Emmet,  and  others 
has  been  shed — how  much  good  has  it  done  the  tyrant  and  the  rob- 
ber? None.  Smith  O'Brien,  MacManus,  and  Mitchel  suffered  for 
Ireland,  yet  not  their  sufferings,  nor  those  of  O'Donovan  (Rossa)  and 
his  companions,  deterred  Burke,  M'Afferty  and  their  friends  from  do- 
ing their  duty.  Neither  shall  the  sufferings  of  my  companions,  nor 
mine,  hinder  my  countrymen  from  taking  their  part  in  the  inevitable 
struggle,  but  rather  nerve  their  arms  to  strike.  I  would  write  on  this 
subject  at  greater  length,  but  I  hope  I  have  written  enough  to  show 
you  that  if  a  man  dies  for  liberty,  his  memory  lives  in  the  breasts  of 
the  good  and  virtuous.  You  will  also  see  that  there  is  no  necessity 
for  my  father,  mother,  sisters,  or  relations  fretting  about  me.  When 
I  leave  this  world  it  will  be  (with  God's  help)  to  go  to  a  better,  to  join 
the  angels  and  saints  of  God,  and  sing  His  praises  for  all  eternity.  I 
leave  a  world  of  suffering,  for  one  of  eternal  joy  and  happiness.  I 
have  been  to  Holy  Communion,  and,  please  God,  intend  going  shortly 
again.  I  am  sorry  we  cannot  hear  Mass;  the  good  priest  is  not  al- 
lowed to  say  it  in  this  prison. 

"  Give  my  love  to  my  father  and  mother,  to  Mary,  Ellen,  John 
Philips,  Tim,  Catherine,  uncles,  aunts,  and  cousins. 

"  From  your  affectionate  brother, 

**  Michael  O'Brien  (alias  William  Gould)." 

The  following  is  one  of  Allen's  letters  to  his  relatives,  writ- 
ten the  day  before  his  execution  : — 


2^8  THE  DOV.JC  AND    TME   SCAFFOLD. 

"  Salford,  New  Bailey  Prison,  Nov.  23,  1867. 

"To  YOU,  MY  Loving  and  Sincere,  Dear  Uncle  and  Auni 
fioGAN, — I  suppose  this  is  my  last  letter  to  you  at  this  side  of  the  grave. 
Oh,  dear  uncle  and  aunt,  if  you  reflect  on  it,  it  is  nothing.  I  am  dying 
an  honorable  death:  I  am  dying  for  Ireland — dying  for  the  land  that 
gave  me  birth — dying  for  the  Island  of  Saints — and  dying  for  liberty. 
Every  generation  of  our  countrymen  has  suffered;  and  where  is  the 
Irish  heart  could  stand  by  unmoved?  I  should  like  to  know  what 
trouble,  what  passion,  what  mischief  could  separate  the  true  Irish 
heart  from  its  own  native  isle.  Dear  uncle  and  aunt,  it  is  sad  to  be 
parting  you  all  at  my  early  age;  but  we  must  all  die  some  day  or  an- 
other. A  few  hours  more  and  I  will  breathe  my  last,  and  on  English 
soil.  Oh,  that  I  could  be  buried  in  Ireland!  What  a  happiness  it 
would  be  to  all  my  friends,  and  to  myself — where  my  countrymen 
could  kneel  on  my  grave.  I  cannot  express  what  joy  it  afforded  me, 
when  I  found  Aunt  Sarah  and  you  were  admitted.  Dear  uncle,  I  am 
sure  it  was  not  a  very  pleasant  place  I  had  to  receive  you  and  my 
aunt;  but  we  must  put  up  with  all  trials  until  we  depart  this  life.  I 
am  sure  it  will  grieve  you  very  much  to  leave  me  in  such  a  place,  on 
the  evidence  of  such  characters  as  the  witnesses  are  that  swore  my  life 
away.  But  I  forgive  them,  and  may  God  forgive  them.  I  am  dying, 
thank  God!  an  Irishman  and  a  Christian.  Givt  my  love  to  all  friends; 
same  from  your  ever  affectionate  nephew,  « -ly   p    . 

"Pray  for  us.  Good-bye,  and  remember  me.  Good-bye,  and  may 
Heaven  protect  ye,  is  the  last  wish  of  your  dying  nephew, 

"  W.  P.  Allen." 

Larkin  was  the  only  one  of  the  condemned  four  who  was 
married.  There  were  to  weep  his  fall,  besides  his  aged  parents, 
a  devoted  wife  and  three  little  children — all  young;  and  it  re- 
dounds rather  to  his  honor,  that  though  flinching  in  nowise, 
Jacking  nought  in  courageous  firmness,  home  ties  were  painfully 
strong  around  his  heart.  With  him  it  was  anguish  indeed  to 
part  forever  the  faithful  wife  and  little  ones  who  used  to  nestle 
in  his  bosom.  Ah !  he  was  never  more  to  feel  these  little  arms 
twining  round  his  neck — never  more  to  see  those  infant  faces 
gazing  into  his  own — never  more  to  part  the  flaxen  curls  over 
each  unfurrowed  brow  !  Henceforth  they  would  look  for  his 
coming  and  hearken  for  his  footfall  in  vain  !  They  would  call 
upon  him,  and  be  answered  only  by  the  convulsive  sobs  of 
their  widowed  mother.     And  who  would  now  fill  his  place  for 


THE  dock:  and  the  scaffold. 


279 


them,  even  as  the  bread-winner  ?     Mayhap,  when  he  lay  in  the 
grave,  those  cherished  little  ones,  for  whom  he  would  draw  the 
life-blood    from    his    heart,    would    feel    the   hunger-pangs   of 
orphanage  in  squalid  misery  and  obscurity!    But  no.     If  such  a 
thought  approached    Larkin's  heart,  it  was  at  once  repelled. 
Assuredly,  he  had  more  faith  in  his  countrymen — more  faith  in 
the  fidelity  and  generosity  of  his  race— than    to  believe  they 
would  suffer  one  of  those  orphans  to  want  loving^  helping,  guid- 
ing hands.     As  he  himself  said,  he  was  not,  after  all,  leaving 
them  fatherless ;  he  was  bequeathing  them  to  Ireland  and  to  God. 
And  the  father  of  the  fatherless,  even  on  the  instant,  raised 
up  a  friend  for  them — sent  an  angel  missioner  of  blessed  com- 
fort to  give  poor  Larkin,  even  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  assur- 
ance that  no  pang  of  poverty  should  ever  wound  those  little 
ones  thus  awfully  bereaved.     One  day  the  confessor  met  the 
prisoners  with  beaming  face,  holding  in  his  hand  a  letter.     It 
was  from  the  Dowager  Marchioness  of  Queensberry,  to  the  con- 
demned  Irishmen  in  Salford  gaol,  and  ran  as  follows  : — 

"My  Dear  Friends, — It  may  be  that  these  few  lines  may  minister 
some  consolation  to  you  on  your  approaching  departure  from  this  world. 
I  send  you  by  the  hands  of  a  faithful  messenger  some  help  for  your 
wife,  or  wives,  and  children,  in  their  approaching  irreparable  loss,  and 
with  the  assurance  that  so  long  as  I  live  they  shall  be  cared  for  to  the 
utmost  of  my  power. 

"  Mr.  M'Donnell,  the  bearer  of  this  for  me,  will  bring  me  their  ad- 
dress, and  the  address  of  the  priest  who  attends  you. 

"It  will  also  be  a  comfort  for  your  precious  souls  to  know  that  we  re« 
member  you  here  at  the  altar  of  God,  where  the  daily  remembrance  of 
that  all-glorious  sacrifice  on  Calvary,  for  you  all,  is  not  neglected. 

"We  have  daily  Mass  for  you  here;  and  if  it  be  so  that  it  please  the 
good  God  to  permit  you  thus  to  be  called  to  Himself  on  Saturday 
morning,  the  precious  body  and  blood  of  Our  Lord  and  Saviour  and 
our  Friend  will  be  presented  for  you  before  God,  at  eight  o'clock  on 
that  day — that  blood  so  precious,  that  cleanses  from  all  sin.  May 
your  last  words  and  thoughts  be  Jesus.  Rest  on  Him,  who  is  faithful, 
and  willing,  and  all-powerful  to  save.  Rest  on  Him,  and  on  His  sac- 
rifice on  that  cross  for  you,  instead  of  you,  and  hear  him  say,  ''To-day 
thou  shall  be  ivith  me  in  Paradise.'"'  Yet  will  we  remember  your  souls 
constantly  at  the  altar  of  God,  after  your  departure,  as  well  as  thos« 
whom  you  leave  in  life. 


28o  THE  DOCK  AND   THE   SCAFFOLD. 

"Farewell!  and  may  Jesus  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  save  us  all 
and  give  you  His  last  blessing  upon  earth,  and  an  eternal  continuance 
of  it  in  heaven.  ..  Caroline  Queensberrv." 

This  letter  enclosed  £\oo.  On  hearing  it  read,  poor  Larkin 
burst  into  tears;  the  other  prisoners  vyere  also  deeply  affected. 
Surely,  never  was  act  more  noble !  Never  was  woman's  sex 
more  exalted — never  was  woman's  mission  more  beautifully 
exemplified,  than  by  this  glorious  act  of  bravery,  tenderness, 
and  generosity. 

Two  days  before  the  fatal  23d,  the  calm  resignation  which 
the  condemned  by  this  time  enjoyed  was  once  more  cruelly  dis- 
turbed, and  almost  destroyed.  Once  again  the  government  came 
to  fill  their  hearts  with  the  torturing  hope,  if  not  indeed  the 
strong  conviction  that,  after  all,  even  though  it  should  be 
at  the  foot  of  the  gallows,  they  would  one  and  all  be  re- 
prieved. Another  man  of  the  five  included  in  the  vitiated 
verdict  reprieved — Shore  was  to  have  his  sentence  commuted. 

This  second  reprieve  was  the  most  refined  and  subtle  torture 
to  men  who  had  made  up  their  minds  for  the  worst,  and  who, 
by  God's  strengthening  grace,  had  already  become,  as  it  were, 
dead  to  the  world.  It  rendered  the  execution  of  the  remaining 
men  almost  an  impossibility.  Maguire  notoriously  was  inno- 
cent even  of  complicity  in  the  rescue — the  verdict  of  the  sworn 
jury,  concurred  in  by  the  ''  learned  judge,"  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding. But  Shore  was  avowedly  a  fidl participator  in  the 
rescue.  He  was  no  more,  no  less,  guilty  than  Allen,  Larkin, 
O'Brien.  In  the  dock  he  proudly  gloried  in  the  fact.  What 
wonder  if  the  hapless  three,  as  yet  unrespited,  found  the  wild 
hope  of  life  surging  irresistibly  through  heart  and  brain! 

To  the  eternal  honor  of  the  artisans  of  London  be  it  told, 
they  signalized  themselves  in  this  crisis  by  a  humanity,  a  gen- 
erosity, that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten  by  Irishmen.  At  sev- 
eral crowded  meetings  they  adopted  memorials  to  the  govern- 
ment, praying  for  the  respite  of  the  condemned  Irishmen — or 
rather  protesting  against  their  contemplated  execution.  These 
memorials  were  pressed  with  a  devoted  zeal  that  showed  how 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  28 1 

deeply  the  honest  hearts  of  English  workingmen  were  stirred; 
but  the  newspaper  press — the  "  high-class"  press  especially — the 
enlightened  "public  instructors" — howled  at,  reviled,  and  de- 
cried these  demonstrations  of  humanity.  The  Queen's  officials 
treated  the  petitions  and  petitioners  with  corresponding  con- 
tempt ;  and  an  endeavor  to  approach  the  sovereign  herself,  then 
at  Windsor,  resulted  in  the  contumelious  rejection  from  the 
palace  gate  of  the  petitioners,  who  were  mobbed  and  hooted 
by  the  tradesmen  and  flunkeys  of  the  royal  household  ! 

In  Ireland,  however,  as  might  be  supposed,  the  respite  of 
Shore  was  accepted  as  settling  the  question ;  there  would  be 
no  execution.  On  the  21st  of  November  men  heard,  indeed, 
that  troops  were  being  poured  into  Manchester,  that  the 
streets  were  being  barricaded,  that  the  public  buildings  were 
strongly  guarded,  and  that  special  constables  were  being  sworn  by 
thousands.  All  this  was  laughed  at  as  absurd  parade.  Ready  as 
were  Irishmen  to  credit  England  with  revengeful  severity,  there 
was  in  their  opinion,  nevertheless,  a  limit  even  to  that.  To  hang 
Allen,  O'Brien,  and  Larkin  now,  on  the  broken-down  verdict, 
would,  it  was  judged,  be  a  measure  of  outrage  which  even  the 
fiercest  hater  of  England  would  frankly  declare  too  great  for  her. 

A  few  there  were,  however,who  did  not  view  the  situation  thus. 
They  read  in  the  respite  of  Shore,  fear;  and  they  gloomily  re- 
flected that  justice  or  magnanimity  towards  the  weak  seldom 
characterizes  those  who  exhibit  cowardice  towards  the  strong. 
Shore  was  an  Americayi,  By  this  simple  sentence  a  flood  of  light 
is  thrown  on  the  fact  of  respiting  him  alone  amongst  the  four 
men  admittedly  concerned  in  the  rescue.  Shore  Avas  an  Ameri- 
can. He  had  a  country  to  avenge  him,  if  legally  slaughtered 
on  a  vitiated  verdict.  To  hang  Jiiin  was  dangerous ;  but  as 
for  Allen,  Larkin,  and  O'Brien,  tJicy  had  no  coimtry  (in  the  same 
sense)  to  avenge  them.  America  was  strong,  but  Ireland  was 
weak.  If  it  was  deemed  dangerous  to  sport  with  the  life  of 
the  American,  it  was  deemed  safe  to  be  brutal  and  merciless 
towards  the  Irishmen.  On  these  the  full  arrear  of  British  veft 
gcance  might  be  glutted. 


282  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

But  there  were  not  many  to  discern,  in  the  first  flush  of  its 
proclamation,  this  sinister  aspect  of  Shore's  respite.  The  news 
reached  Ireland  on  Friday,  22d  November,  and  was,  as  we  have 
already  said,  generally  deemed  conclusive  evidence  that  the 
next  day  would  bring  like  news  in  reference  to  Allen,  Larkin, 
and  O'Brien. 

Early  next  morning — Saturday,  23d  November,  1867 — men 
poured  into  the  cities  and  towns  of  Ireland  reached  by  tele- 
graphic communication,  to  learn  *'the  news  from  Manchester." 
Language  literally  fails  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  horror — the 
stupefaction— that  ensued  when  that  news  was  read: — 

^'This  marjiing,  at  eight  d clock,  the  three  conde^nned  Fenians, 
Allen,  Larkin,  and  O'Brien^  were  executed  in  front  of  Salford 
gaoir 

Men  gasped  in  awe-struck  horror — speech  seemed  denied 
them.  Could  it  be  a  dream,  or  was  this  a  reality?  Had  men 
lived  to  see  the  day  when  such  a  deed  could  be  done?  For 
the  reason  that  incredulity  had  been  so  strong  before,  wild, 
haggard  horror  now  sat  on  every  countenance,  and  froze  the 
life-blood  in  every  heart.  Irishmen  had  lain  quiescent,  per- 
suaded that  in  this  seventh  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
some  humanizing  influences  would  be  found  to  sway  that  power 
that  in  the  past,  at  least,  had  ever  been  so  merciless  to  Irish 
victims.     But  now  !     Alas  ! — 

In  that  dreadful  hour  the  gulf  between  the  two  nations 
seemed  widened  and  deepened,  until  it  gaped  and  yawned 
wide,  deep,  and  dark  as  hell  itself.  There  was  a  scowl  on  every 
brow.  Men  went  about — sullen,  moody,  silent,  morose — with 
clenched  teeth  and  darkened  faces,  terrible  passions  raging  in 
their  bosoms.  For  all  knew  that  the  sacrifice  of  those  three 
Irish  patriots  was  a  cold-blooded  and  cowardly  act  of  English 
policy,  more  than  a  judicial  proceeding— an  act  of  English 
panic,  cowardice,  hate,  and  terror.  All  knew  that  Allen, 
Larkin,  and  O'Brien  would  never  have  been  hanged  on  the 
evidence  of  those  forsworn  witnesses,  and  on  the  verdict  of 
that  jury  whose  perjury  or  blunder  was  openly  confessed  and 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


283 


proclaimed,  but  for  the  political  aspirations  and  designs  of 
which  the  rescue  was  judged  to  be  an  illustration.  Had  their 
offence  been  non-political,  they  would  not  have  been  held  a 
day  on  such  a  verdict.  They  were  put  to  death  for  their  politi- 
cal opinions.  They  were  put  to  death  for  political  reasons. 
Their  execution  was  meant  to  strike  terror  into  Irishmen  dar- 
ing to  mutter  of  liberty.  Had  they  been  Americans,  like 
Shore,  they  would  have  been  respited ;  but  as  they  were 
Irishmen,  they  were  immolated. 

The  full  story  of  how  those  patriots  met  their  fate  at  the 
last,  reached  Ireland  two  days  afterwards,  and  intensified  a 
thousand-fold  the  national  emotions.  Men  were  alternately 
melted  into  tears,  or  maddened  into  passion,  as  they  read  that 
sad  chapter  of  Irish  martyrdom. 

Even  before  the  respite  of  Shore,  the  government  had  com- 
menced the  most  formidable  military  preparations  in  view  of 
the  bloody  act  of  State  policy  designed  for  the  23d.  Troops 
were  hurried  hy  rail  to  all  the  English  cities  and  towns  where 
an  "  Irish  element"  existed  ;  and  Manchester  itself  resembled 
a  city  besieged.  The  authorities  called  for  "  special  consta- 
bles," and  partly  attracted  by  the  plenteous  supply  of  drink 
and  free  feeding,*  and  partly  impelled  by  their  savage  fury 
against  the  "  Hirish"  or  the  "  Fenians" — suddenly  become  con- 
vertible terms  with  English  writers  and  speakers — a  motley 
mass  of  several  thousands,  mainly  belonging  to  the  most  de- 
graded of  the  population,  were  enrolled.  All  the  streets  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  prison  were  closed  against  public  traffic, 
were  occupied  by  police  or  "  specials,"  and  were  crossed  at  close 
intervals  by  ponderous  wooden  barriers.  Positions  command- 
ing the  space  in  front  of  the  scaffold  were  strategetically 
scanned,  "  strengthened,"  and  occupied  by  military.  The  scaf- 
fold was  erected  in  a  space  or  gap  made  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  outer  or  boundary  wall  of  the  prison  in  New  Bailey  Street. 


*  The  Manchester  papers  inform  us  that  the  specials  were  plentifully  fed  with  hot  pork  pies 
and  beer  ad  libitum^  which  seemed  to  have  a  powerful  effect  in  bringing  in  volunteers  from 
the  iower  clasies. 


284  '  "^^^  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

The  masonry  was  removed  to  the  width  necessary  for  the  scat 
fold,  which  was  then  projected  over  the  street,  at  the  outer 
side  of  the  wall.  It  was  approached  or  ascended  from  the 
prison  yard  below,  by  a  long  wooden  stair  or  step-ladder, close 
alongside  the  wall  on  the  inside.  Against  the  wall  on  the  in- 
ner side,  on  either  hand  of  the  scaffold,  were  erected  platforms 
within  about  four  feet  below  the  wall  coping.  These  platforms 
were  filled  with  soldiers,  ''  crouching  down,"  as  the  reporters 
described,  "with  the  muzzles  of  their  rifles  just  resting  on  the 
wall."  The  space  in  the  street  immediately  beneath  the  scaf- 
fold was  railed  off  by  a  strong  wooden  barrier,  and  outside  this 
barrier  were  massed  the  thousands  of  police,  special  constables, 
and  volunteers. 

On  Friday  the  doomed  men  took  leave  for  the  last  time  of 
the  few  relatives  allowed  to  see  them.  The  parting  of  Larkin 
and  his  family  is  described  as  one  of  the  most  agonizing  scenes 
ever  witnessed.  Poor  Allen,  although  not  quite  twenty  years 
of  age,  was  engaged  to  a  young  girl  whom  he  loved,  and  who 
loved  him,  most  devotedly.  She  was  sternly  refused  the  sad 
consolation  of  bidding  him  farewell.  In  the  evening  the  pris- 
oners occupied  themselves  for  some  time  in  writing  letters,  and 
each  of  them  drew  up  a  ''  declaration,"  which  they  committed 
to  the  chaplain.  They  then  gave  not  another  thought  to 
this  world.  From  that  moment  until  all  was  over,  their 
whole  thoughts  were  centered  in  the  solemn  occupation  of  pre- 
paring to  meet  their  Creator.  In  these  last  hours  Father  Gadd, 
the  prison  chaplain,  was  assisted  by  the  Very  Rev.  Canon  Cant- 
well  and  the  Rev.  Father  Quick,  whose  attentions  were  unremit- 
ting to  the  end.  From  the  first  the  prisoners  exhibited  a  deep, 
fervid,  religious  spirit,  which  could  scarcely  have  been  surpassed 
amongst  the  earliest  Christian  martyrs.  They  received  Holy 
Communion  every  alternate  morning,  and  spent  the  greater 
part  of  their  time  in  spiritual  devotion.  On  Friday  evening 
they  were  locked  up  for  the  night  at  the  usual  hour — about 
half-past  six  o'clock.  In  their  cells  they  spent  a  long  interval 
in  prayer  and  meditation — disturbed  ever  and  anon,  alas !  by 


THE  DOCk  ^ND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


285 


tTie  shouts  of  brutal  laughter  and  boisterous  choruses  of  the 
mob  already  asembled  outside  the  prison  walls.  At  length 
the  fated  three  sought  their  dungeon  pallets  for  the  last  time. 
*■'■  Strange  as  it  may  appear,"  says  one  of  the  Manchester  papers 
chronicling  the  execution,  "these  three  men,  standing  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave,  and  about  to  suffer  an  ignominious  death, 
slept  as  soimdly  as  had  been  their  wont."  Very  "  strange,"  no 
doubt,  it  appeared  to  those  accustomed  to  see  criminals  die ; 
but  no  marvel  to  those  who  know  how  innocent  men,  at  peace 
with  God  and  man,  can  mount  the  scaffold,  and  offer  their 
lives  a  sacrifice  for  the  cause  of  liberty. 

Far  different  that  night  was  spent  by  the  thronging  country- 
men of  Broadhead,  who  came  as  to  a  holiday  to  see  the  ''  Fen. 
ians"  die.  Early  on  the  preceding  evening  crowds  had  taken 
up  their  places  wherever  the  occupying  bodies  of  the  military, 
police,  or  specials  did  not  prevent ;  and  the  pictures  drawn  of 
their  conduct  by  the  newspaper  reporters,  one  and  all,  are  in- 
expressibly revolting.  It  was  the  usual  English  crowd  assem- 
bled  to  enjoy  an  execution.  They  made  the  air  resound  with 
laughter  at  obscene  jokes,  shouts,  cries,  and  repartees;  and 
chorused  in  thousands  [beneath  the  gallows!]  snatches  of 
"comic"  ballads  and  pot-house  songs,  varied  by  verses  of 
"  Rule  Britannia,"  and  "  God  Save  the  Queen,"  by  way  of 
exultation  over  the  Irish.  Once  or  twice,  in  the  early  part  of 
the  night,  the  police  had  to  remove  the  mob  from  the  portion 
of  the  prison  nearest  the  condemned  cells,  as  the  shouts  and 
songs  were  painfully  disturbing  the  hapless  men  engaged  at 
that  moment  preparing  for  eternity. 

Saturday,  the  23d  November,  dawned  misty,  murky,  dull, 
and  cold  over  Salford.  During  the  first  hours  after  the  past 
midnight  the  weather  had  been  clear  and  frosty,  and  a  heavy 
hoar  covered  the  ground ;  but  as  daylight  approached,  a  thick 
mist  or  fog  crept  like  a  pallid  pall  over  the  waking  city. 

The  condemned  were  roused  from  sound  and  tranquil  slum- 
bers about  a  quarter  to  five  o'clock.  Having  dressed  they  at 
tended  Mass,  Rev.  Canon  Cantwell,  Rev.  Mr.  Gadd,  and  Rev. 


286  T^HE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

Mr.  Quick  officiating.  They  heard  this,  their  last  Mass,  with  a 
fervor  and  solemnity  which  no  words  could  describe.  The 
Holy  Sacrifice  having  been  offered,  the  condemned  and  the 
three  priests  remained  in  prayer  and  spiritual  exercises  until 
seven  o'clock,  when  the  prisoners  partook  of  breakfast.  "  The 
last  preparations,"  says  an  English  eye-witness,  "  were  then  be- 
gun. At  twelve  minutes  to  eight  o'clock  the  executioner^ 
Calcraft,  and  his  assistant,  were  introduced  into  the  cell  in 
which  the  prisoners  were  placed,  and  the  process  of  pinioning 
their  arms  was  gone  through.  The  priests  stood  by  the  side 
of  the  unhappy  men,  administering  the  consolations  of  religion, 
and  exhorting  them  to  firmness  to  meet  the  last  dreadful  ordeal. 
The  convicts,  at  this  time,"  continues  the  English  reporter, 
*'  manifested  a  remarkable  fortitude.  Not  one  of  them  flinched 
in  the  least." 

The  same  eye-witness  describes  as  follows  the  last  act  of  the 
tragedy,  with  a  brief  general  sketch  of  which  we  commenced 
this  narrative  : — 

"  At  a  quarter  to  eight  o'clock  the  interior  court  of  the  gaol 
presented  a  strange  and  striking  spectacle.  Behind  the  wall 
in  New  Bailey  Street  was  erected  the  long  staircase  leading  to 
the  scaffold,  and  by  its  side  were  platforms  for  the  use  of  the 
military.  The  fog  was  so  dense,  that  objects  could  be  but 
faintly  distinguished  at  a  distance  of  thirty  yards.  Suddenly 
the  words  of  militar}'  command  were  heard,  and  a  company  of 
the  72d  Highlanders  marched  round  the  Roundhouse,  and 
took  up  a  position  in  line  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  Simul- 
taneously, small  detachments  of  the  same  regiment  ascended 
to  the  platform,  and  crouched  there,  with  their  loaded  rifles 
slightly  projecting  over  the  prison  wall.  At  almost  the  same 
moment  the  heads  of  a  line  of  soldiers  arose  above  the  parapet 
of  the  railway  viaduct.  A  line  of  warders  was  formed  in  the 
gaol  court.  The  sentries  on  duty  ceased  their  walk  ;  magistrates 
and  reporters  stood  aside,  and  a  dead  silence  prevailed  for  a 
few  moments,  as  a  signal  was  given  from  the  corner  of  the 
Roundhouse.    At  three  minutes  past  eight  o'clock  the  solemn 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  287 

voice  of  a  minister  repeating  the  litany  of  the  Catholic  Church 
was  heard,  and  the  head  of  the  procession  became  visible 
through  a  thick  fog,  about  thirty  yards  from  the  foot  of  the 
staircase.  The  Rev.  Canon  Cantweli  walked  first  by  the  side 
of  Allen.  The  convict  was  deadly  pale  ;  his  eyes  wandered  al- 
ternately from  the  priest  to  the  individuals  standing  round,  and 
then  he  uplifted  his  gaze,  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  pierce  the 
dense  canopy  which  hung  above  him.  He  walked  with  a  tol- 
erably steady  step,  and  uttered  the  response,  *  Lord,  have 
mercy  upon  us,'  in  a  firm    voice." 

Next  to  him  came  Larkin,  in  whose  appearance  confinement 
and  anxiety  of  mind  had  wrought  a  striking  change.  His 
physical  strength  seemed  shaken,  and  he  required  to  be  assisted 
by  one  of  the  warders  in  ascending  the  long,  wooden  stair  that 
led  to  the  scaffold.  Last  of  all  came  O'Brien,  whose  noble, 
firm,  and  dignified  bearing  won  the  approbation  of  every  one 
who  beheld  him.  A  partition  running  in  the  line  of  the  wall 
divided  the  scaffold  into  an  outer  and  an  inner  platform,  a 
small  door  opening  between  them.  Allen  and  O'Brien,  and 
their  attendants,  having  reached  the  top  of  the  stair,  waited  on 
the  inner  platform  until  Larkin  and  the  rest  of  the  attendant 
warders  and  ofificials  came  up.  Then,  all  being  ready,  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  the  boy-martyr  was  first  led  out  upon  the  drop. 
His  face,  which  was  deathly  pale,  appeared  working  with  the 
effects  of  strong  mental  agony.  The  high  priest  of  English 
rule  over  Irishmen,  Calcraft,  came  forward,  placed  the  treach- 
erous noose  around  Allen's  neck,  pulled  a  thin  white  cap  over 
his  ashen  face,  and  then  stooped,  and  securely  tied  his  feet  to- 
gether. The  pinioning  of  the  arms,  which  had  been  done  in 
the  cell,  allowed  his  hands,  from  the  elbows  downward,  suffi- 
cient freedom  to  clasp  on  his  breast  a  crucifix,  which  ever  and 
anon,  as  he  spoke  aloud  the  responses  of  the  litany,  the  poor 
young  fellow  seemed  to  press  closer  and  closer  to  his  heart. 

Next  O'Brien  was  led  forth.  On  his  fine  manly  face  the 
closest  scrutiny  could  not  detect  a  trace  of  weakness.  He 
looked  calmly  and  sadly  around ;  then,  stepping  up  to  where 


288  THE  DOCK  AND   THE  SCAFFOLD. 

Allen  stood  capped  and  pinioned,  he  clasped  him  by  the  hand, 
and  kissed  him  affectionately  on  the  cheek,  speaking  to  him  a 
word  or  two  not  overheard.  Then  O'Brien  himself  was  placed 
by  Calcraft  on  the  drop,  the  rope  was  fixed  upon  his  neck,  the 
cap  was  drawn  on  his  face,  and  his  feet  were  securely  bound. 

Larkin  was  now  brought  out,  and  led  directly  to  his  place  on 
the  left  hand  of  O'Brien,  who  was  in  the  middle.  The  sight  of 
his  two  brother-martyrs  capped  and  pinioned,  and  with  the  fatal 
cord  around  each  neck,  seemed  to  unman  the  poor  fellow 
utterly.  He  stumbled  on  touching  an  uneven  plank  on  the 
scafTold,  so  that  many  thought  he  had  fainted  ;  but  it  was  not 
so,  though  he  unquestionably  was  laboring  under  intense  agony 
of  mind.  O'Brien,  firm  and  unshrinking  to  the  last,  turned  and 
looked  at  him  encouragingly,  and  to  him  also  spoke  a  few  words 
in  a  low  tone. 

Calcraft  now  disappeared  from  view,  and  the  three  men 
stood  for  a  moment  before  the  multitude,  their  voices  ringing 
out  clearly  in  the  still  morning  air,  "  Lord'  Jesus,  have  mercy 
on  us."  Suddenly  the  click  of  the  bolts  was  heard ;  the 
three  bodies  sunk  through  the  traps ;  England's  three  halters 
strained,  and  tugged,  and  twitched  convulsively  for  a  few 
moments,  and  the  deed  was  done — her  vengeance  was  accom- 
plished. 

That  afternoon  her  functionaries  bore  to  three  grave-pits  in 
the  prison  yard  three  lumps  of  lifeless  clay,  that  a  few  short 
hours  before  had  been  three  of  God's  noblest  creatures.  Like 
carrion,  they  were  fiung  into  those  unconsecrated  pits,  and 
strewed  with  quicklime.  For  this  was  British  law.  The  wolf 
and  the  tiger  leave  some  vestiges  of  their  victims ;  but  a  special 
ordinance  of  English  law  required  even  the  corpses  of  those 
martyred  Irishmen  to  be  calcined. 

They  had  purposed  addressing  the  crowd  from  the  scaffold, 
but  were  prevented  from  so  doing  by  order  of  the  government ! 
They  had  each  one,  however,  committed  to  writing,  as  already 
mentioned,  a  last  solemn  message  to  the  world.  These  de- 
clarations of  the  dying  men  were  entrusted  to  the  care  of  their 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  289 

confessor,  who  eventually  gave  them  up  for  publication.  They 
created  the  most  intense  and  painful  sensation  in  Ireland.  They 
made  more  and  more  clear  the  dreadful  fact  that  the  hapless  men 
had  been  cruelly  sacrificed.  Standing,  as  it  might  be  said,  in 
the  presence  of  their  God  and  Judge,  they  one  and  all  protested 
their  innocence,  and  declared  the  falseness  of  the  evidence  on 
which  they  had  been  convicted.  But  not  in  querulous  repining 
or  denunciation  were  these  truths  proclaimed,  but  in  language 
and  with  sentinents  worthy  of  men  who  professed  the  faith 
preached  by  the  Crucified  on  Calvary.  Every  line  breathed 
the  purest  humility,  the  most  perfect  resignation,  and  the  most 
intense  devotion  to  God,  mingled  with  the  most  fervent  love 
of  country.  Those  men  were  all  of  humble  circumstances  in 
life,  and,  with  the  exception  of  O'Brien,  had  but  slight  literary 
advantages ;  yet  the  simple  pathos,  beauty,  and  eloquence  of 
their  dying  messages  moved  every  heart.  Poor  Larkin  was, 
of  all  three,  the  least  endowed  with  education,  yet  his  letter 
has  been  aptly  described  as  "  a  perfect  poem  in  prose."  We 
here  append  these  memorable  documents: — 

"  DECLARATION  OF  WILLIAM  PHILIP  ALLEN. 

"  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  relative  to  the  charge  for  which  I  am 
to  die.  In  a  few  hours  more  I  will  be  going  before  my  God.  I  state 
in  the  presence  of  that  great  God  that  I  am  not  the  man  who  shot 
Sergeant  Brett.  If  that  man's  wife  is  alive,  never  let  her  think  that 
I  am  the  person  who  deprived  her  of  her  husband  ;  and  if  his  family 
is  alive,  let  them  never  think  I  am  the  man  who  deprived  them  of 
their  father. 

"  I  confess  I  have  committed  other  sins  against  my  God,  and  I 
hope  He  will  accept  of  my  death  as  a  homage  and  adoration  which  I 
owe  His  Divine  Majesty,  and  in  atonement  for  my  past  transgressions 
against  him. 

"There  is  not  much  use  in  dwelling  on  this  subject  much  longer  ;  for 
by  this  time  I  am  sure  it  is  plain  that  I  am  not  the  man  that  took  away 
the  life  of  Sergeant  Brett. 

I  state  this  to  put  juries  on  their  guard  for  the  future,  and  to  have 
them  inquire  into  the  characters  of  witnesses  before  they  take  away 
the  lives  of  innocent  men.  But,  then,  I  ought  not  to  complain.  Was 
not  our  Saviour  sold  for  money,  and  His  life  sworn  away  by  false  wit- 
nesses ?    With  the  help  of  the  great  God,  I  am  only  dying  to  a  world 


ago  ^-^^  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

of  sorrow  to  rise  to  a  world  of  joy.  Before  the  judgment-seat  of  God 
there  will  be  no  false  witnesses  tolerated  ;  every  one  must  render  an 
account  for  himself. 

"  I  forgive  all  the  enemies  I  ever  may  have  had  in  this  world.  May 
God  forgive  them.  Forgive  them,  sweet  Jesus,  forgive  them!  I  also 
ask  pardon  of  all  whom  I  have  injured  in  any  way. 

*'  In  reference  to  the  attack  on  the  van,  I  confess  I  nobly  aided  in 
Che  rescue  of  the  gallant  Colonel  Kelly  and  Captain  Deasey.  It  is 
well  known  to  the  whole  world  what  my  poor  country  has  to  suffer^ 
and  how  her  sons  are  exiles  the  world  over  ;  then  tell  me  where  is 
the  Irishman  who  could  look  on  unmoved,  and  see  his  countrymen 
taken  prisoners,  and  treated  like  murderers  and  robbers  in  British 
dungeons  ? 

"  May  the  lord  have  mercy  on  our  souls,  and  deliver  Ireland  from 
her  sufferings.     God  save  Ireland  .  William  Philip  Allen." 

'*  DECLARATION  OF  MICHAEL  LARKIN. 

"Men  of  the  World, — I,  as  a  dying  man,  going  before  my  God, 
solemnly  declare  I  have  never  fired  a  shot  in  all  my  life,  much  less 
the  day  the  attack  was  made  on  the  van,  nor  did  I  ever  put  a  hand 
to  the  van.  The  world  will  remember  the  widow's  son's  life  that  was 
sworn  away,  by  which  he  leaves  a  wife  and  four  children  to  mourn  a 
loss.  I  am  not  dying  for  shooting  Brett,  but  for  mentioning  Colonel 
Kelly's  and  Deasey's  names  in  the  court.  I  am  dying  a  patriot  for 
my  God  and  my  tountry,  and  Larkin  will  be  remembered  in  time  to 
come  by  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Erin. 

"  Farewell,  dear  Ireland,  for  I  mast  leave  you,  and  die  a  martyr  for 
your  sake.  Farewell,  dear  mother,  wife,  and  children,  for  I  must 
leave  you  all  for  poor  Ireland's  sake.  Farewell  uncles,  aunts,  and 
cousins,  likewise  sons  and  daughters  of  Erin.  I  hope  in  heaven  we 
will  meet  another  day.  God  be  with  you.  Father  in  heaven,  forgive 
those  that  have  sworn  my  life  away.  I  forgive  them  and  the  world. 
God  bless  Ireland!  «  Micheal  Larkin." 

"  DECLARATION  OF  MICHAEL  O'BRIEN. 

"  I  have  only  to  make  these  few  remarks:  I  did  not  use  a  revolver, 
or  any  other  firearm,  or  throw  stones,  on  the  day  that  Colonel  Kelly, 
and  Captain  Deasey  were  so  gallantly  rescued.  I  was  not  present, 
too,  when  the  van  was  attacked.  I  say  this,  not  bv  way  of  reproach, 
or  to  give  annoyance  to  any  person  ;  but  I  say  it  in  the  hope  that 
witnesses  may  be  more  particular  when  identifying,  and  that  juries 
may  look  more  closely  to  the  character  of  witnesses,  and  to  their 
evidence,  before  they  convict  a  person,  to  send  him  before  his  God. 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  2gt 

I  trust  that  those  who  swore  to  seeing  me  with  a  revolvet  or  throw- 
ing stones,  were  nothing  more  than  mistaken.  I  forgive  them  from 
my  heart,  and  likewise,  I  forgive  all  who  have  ever  done  me  or  in- 
tended to  do  me  any  injury.  I  know  I  have  been  guilty  of  many  sins 
against  my  God;  in  satisfaction  for  those  sins  I  have  tried  to  do  what 
little  penance  I  could,  and  having  received  the  Sacraments  of  the 
Church,  I  have  humbly  begged  that  He  would  accept  my  sufferings 
and  death,  to  be  united  to  the  sufferings  and  death  of  His  innocent 
Son,  through  whom    my  sufferings  can  be  rendered  acceptable. 

"  My  Redeemer  died  a  more  shameful  death,  as  far  as  man  could 
make  it,  that  I  might  receive  pardon  from  Him,  and  enjoy  His  glory 
in  Heaven.  God  grant  it  may  be  so.  I  earnestly  beg  my  country- 
men in  America  to  heal  their  differences,  to  unite  in  God's  name  for 
the  sake  of  Ireland  and  liberty .  I  cannot  see  any  reasons,  even  the 
slightest,  why  John  Savage  should  not  have  the  entire  confidence  of 
all  his  countrymen.  With  reference  to  Colonel  Kelly,  I  beHeve  him 
to  be  a  good,  honorable  man,  unselfish,  and  entirely  devoted  to  the 
cause  of  Irish  freedom.  «  Michael  O'Brien." 

So  ends  the  story  of  the  memorable  events  which  gave  three 
new  names  to  the  list  of  Ireland's  martyrs;  so  closes  the  sad 
and  thrilling  record  which  tells  how  Allen,  Larkin,  and  O'Brien 
died.  Over  the  neglected  plot  in  which  their  calcined  remains 
are  lying,  no  stone  stands  inscribed  with  their  names — no 
emblem  to  symbolize  their  religion  or  their  nationality.  But 
to  that  gloomy  spot  the  hearts  of  the  Irish  people  will  ever  turn 
with  affectionate  remembrance  ;  and  the  day  will  never  come 
when,  in  this  the  land  that  bore  them,  the  brave  men  whose  ashes 
repose  within  it  will  be  forgotten. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  JACKMEL. 

;::^y^^^HERE  was  wild   commotion  among  the  Irish  people 
in  America,  when  on   the  6th   of  March,  1867,  the 
Atlantic  cable  flashed  across  to  them  the  news  that  on 
o.vy     the  previous  night  the  Fenian  circles,  from  Louth  to 
rj      Kerry,  had  turned  out  in  arms,  and  commenced  the 
^--^     long-promised    rebellion.       It    was  news  to   send   a 
thrill  of  excitement  through  every  Irish  heart — to  fire  the  blood 


292  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

of  the  zealous  men  who  for  years  had  been  working  to  brinq 
the  Irish  question  to  this  issue  ;  and  news  to  cause  profound 
and  anxious  thought  to  that  large  class  of  Irishmen  who, 
deeply  occupied  with  commercial  and  professional  pursuits, 
are  less  energetic  than  the  members  of  the  Fenian  Brother, 
hood  in  their  political  action,  but  who  scarcely  differ  from  them 
in  principle.  It  was,  for  all  who  had  Irish  blood  in  their  veins 
and  Irish  sympathy  in  their  hearts,  a  serious  consideration  that 
once  again  the  banner  of  insurrection  against  English  rule  had 
been  unfurled  in  Ireland,  and  that  on  many  a  spot  of  Irish  earth 
the  organized  forces  of  England  were  in  conflict  with  hastily- 
collected,  ill-supplied,  and  almost  unarmed  levies  of  Irish  pa- 
triotism. 

The  question  whether  the  cause  of  Ireland  would  be  advan- 
taged or  injured  by  the  struggle  and  its  inevitable  results 
was  differently  answered  by  different  minds.  Some  saw  in 
the  conflict  nothing  but  defeat  and  suffering  for  the  country — 
more  gyves  and  chains — more  sorrow  and  humiliation  for  her 
sons,  and  a  fresh  triumph  for  the  proud  and  boastful  power  of 
England.  Others,  while  only  too  well  convinced  that  the  sup- 
pression of  the  insurrectionary  movement  was  sure  to  be 
speedily  accomplished,  viewed  the  position  with  a  certain  fierce 
and  stern  satisfaction,  and  discerned  therein  the  germ  of  high 
,  hopes  for  the  future. 

But  to  certain  of  the  Fenian  leaders  and  Fenian  circles  in 
America,  the  news  came  with  a  pressing  and  peculiar  interest 
They  were  largely  resf  onsible  for  the  outbreak ;  the  war  was, 
in  a  manner,  their  wi  r.  Their  late  Head-Centre,  James  Ste- 
phens, was  chargeable  with  it  a  only  in  a  certain  degree.  He 
had  promised  to  initiate  the  struggle  before  the  1st  of  January 
of  that  year.  Conscious  that  his  veracity  was  regarded  in  some- 
what of  a  dubious  light  by  many  of  his  followers,  he  reiterated 
the  declaration  with  all  possible  passion  and  vehemence,  and 
even  went  the  length  of  swearing  to  it  by  invocations  of  the 
Most  High,  before  public  assemblies  of  his  countrymen.  When 
the  time  came  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  pledges  he  failed  to 


:  DCC^  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  293 

keep  them,  and  was  immediately  deposed  from  his  position  by 
the  disappointed  and  enraged  circles  which  had  hitherto  trusted 
him.  But  in  the  meantime,  relying  on  his  engagement  to 
lead  off  an  insurrection  in  Ireland,  those  circles  had  made  cer- 
tain preparations  for  the  event,  and  a  number  of  their  men> 
bers,  brave  Irishmen  who  had  had  actual  experience  of  war  in 
the  armies  of  America,  had  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  landed  inj 
England  and  Ireland,  to  give  the  movement  the  benefit  of  their 
services.  To  these  men  the  break-down  of  James  Stephens 
was  a  stunning  blow,  an  event  full  of  shame  and  horror ;  they 
felt  their  honor  compromised  by  his  conduct ;  they  considered 
that  they  could  not  return  to  America  with  their  mission  un- 
attempted,  and  they  resolved  to  establish  their  own  honesty 
and  sincerity  at  all  events,  as  well  as  the  courage  and  earnest- 
ness of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  in  Ireland,  by  taking  the  des- 
perate course  of  engaging  forthwith  in  open  iiisurrection.  It 
was  in  conformity  with  their  arrangements,  and  in  obedience 
to  their  directions,  that  the  rising  took  place  on  the  night  of 
the  5th  of  March,  1867. 

The  ill  success  which  attended  the  attempted  insurrection 
was  reported  in  America  almost  dS  300n  as  it  was  known  in 
Ireland,  by  the  agency  of  the  Atlantic  telegraph.  But  who- 
ever believed  the  statements  of  its  speedy  and  utter  collapse, 
which  were  forwarded  through  the  caole,  the  Fenian  circles 
certainly  did  not.  They  felt  certain  that  the  truth  was  being 
withheld  from  them  ;  that  the  cable,  which  was  an  instrument 
in  the  hands  of  the  British  Government,  was  being  employed  to 
mislead  them  ;  and  that  when  it  reported  all  quiet  in  Ireland,  and 
no  movement  afoot  save  that  of  the  British  troops  employed 
in  **  scouring"  the  mountains  of  Cork  and  Tipperary,  there  was,  in 
reality,  a  guerilla  warfare  being  waged  over  a  great  extent  of  the 
country,  and  many  a  tough  fight  was  being  fought  in  pass,  and 
glen,  and  wood,  amidst  the  picturesque  scenery  of  the  Mun- 
ster  counties.  Their  incredulity  was  but  natural.  They  had 
no  reason  whatever  to  rely  on  the  truthfulness  of  the  cable  mes- 
sages.    If  there  had  been  Feniaa  successes  to  report,  it  is  very 


^^  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

likely  that  no  fair  account  of  them  would  have  been  allowed  to 
pass  by  that  route.  Still,  as  day  after  day  went  by,  and  brought 
no  news  of  battles  lost  or  won  by  any  party,  the  conviction 
began  to  force  itself  on  the  minds  of  the  American  Fenians 
that  the  movement  in  Ireland  was  hanging  fire,  and  that  it  was 
going  hard  with  the  brave  men  who  had  committed  themselves 
to  it  at  the  outset.  It  was  necessary  that  something  should 
be  done,  if  those  men  were  to  be  sustained,  and  the  outbreak- 
developed  into  a  struggle  worthy  of  the  cause,  and  of  the  lor^g 
years  of  preparation,  the  bold  threats  and  the  glowing  promises 
of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood,  and  the  risks  they  had  incurred, 
and  the  sacrifices  they  had  made. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  What  was  needed  to  give  force  and 
power  to  the  insurrectionary  uprising  in  Ireland?  They  knew 
the  answer.  Arms  and  officers  were  wanted.  To  supply  them, 
at  least  in  some  measure,  was,  therefore,  the  great  object  that 
now  presented  itself  to  their  minds.  How  they  sought  to  ac- 
complish it  is  known  to  the  public — if  the  Attorney-General 
and  his  witnesses,  at  the  opening  of  the  Commission  in  Dublin, 
in  November,  1867,  told  a  true  story. 

Any  references  we  shall  here  make  to  that  particular  subject, 
that  is,  to  the  alleged  voyage  of  a  Fenian  cruiser  conveying 
men  and  arms  from  New  York  to  Ireland,  shall  be  derived  en- 
tirely from  the  statements  made  in  open  court  on  that  occa- 
sion, with  an  extract  or  two  from  a  document  otherwise  pub- 
lished. We  shall  add  nothing  to  them,  neither  shall  we  vouch 
for  the  authenticity  of  all  or  any  of  them,  for  at  the  time  of 
our  writing,  ''  the  crown,"  as  the  government  lawyers  call 
themselves,  are  not  yet  done  with  some  of  the  cases  arising 
out  of  this  illegal  expedition.  But,  taking  the  narrative  as  we 
find  it  in  the  newspaper  reports  of  the  trials  of  Colonel  John 
Warren  and  Augustine  E.  Costello,  and  in  the  lecture  delivered 
in  America  under  the  auspices  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood,  by 
Colonel  S.  R.  Tresilian,  John  Savage,  Esq.,  C.E.F.B.,  in  the 
chair,  reported  in  the  Irish  People,  New  York,  and  in  other 
journals,  we  summarize  briefly,  as  follows,  its  chief  particulars. 


THE   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  295 

It  appears,  then,  that  at  the  tiine  to  which  we  have  referred, 
when  the  necessity  of  transmitting  a  quantity  of  arms,  and 
sending  a  number  of  military  leaders  to  Ireland  for  the  sustain: 
ment  of  the  insurrectionary  movement  had  impressed  itself  on 
the  minds  of  the  Fenian  leaders  in  America,  they  resolved  on 
an  attempt  to  supply,  to  some  extent,  those  requirements. 
Two  ways  were  open  to  them  of  setting  about  this  difficult  and 
hazardous  undertaking.  One  was  to  avail  of  the  ordinary  mail 
steamers  and  trading  ships  between  the  two  countries,  send  the 
men  across  as  ordinary  passengers,  and  ship  the  arms  as  goods 
of  different  kinds.  Much  had  been  done  in  that  way  during  the 
previous  three  or  four  years,  but  it  was  plainly  too  slow  and 
uncertain  a  process  to  adopt  on  the  present  occasion.  The 
other  course  was  to  procure  a  vessel  for  this  special  purpose, 
freight  her  with  the  men  and  arms,  place  her  under  the  com- 
mand of  a  skilful  and  experienced  captain,  and  trust  to  his 
skill  and  luck  for  landing  the  entire  in  safety  somewhere  on 
the  west  coast  of  Ireland. 

This  was  the  course  adopted.  How  it  was  carried  out, 
the  Attorney-General,  with  whatever  degree  of  authority  may 
attach  to  his  words  in  such  a  case,  has  thus  described : — 

"On  the  i2th  of  April,  1867,  a  party  of  forty  or  fifty  men,  almost  all  of 
whom  had  b^^en  officers  or  privates  in  the  service  of  the  American 
government,  went  down  from  New  York  to  Sandy  Hook,  in  a  steamer, 
a  distance  of  about  eighteen  miles.  There  they  found  a  brigantine  of 
about  200  tons  burden,  which  had  been  purchased  for  the  expedition, 
and  in  that  brigantine  these  men  embarked,  and  sailed  for  Ireland. 
She  was  called  the  "  Jackmel,"  and  she  sailed  without  papers  or 
colors.  For  the  purpose  of  keeping  their  movements  as  free  from 
observation  as  possible,  these  men  embarked  without  luggage— a 
rather  extraordinary  thing  in  men  the  great  majority  of  whom  had 
been  officers  in  the  American  service.  The  commander  of  the  expe- 
dition was  named  John  F.  Kavanagh,  and  he  had  filled  the  office  of 
brigadier-general  in  the  American  army,  and  was  at  one  time  a  mem- 
ber of  the  American  Congress.  These  men  had  on  board  a  very  large 
quantity  of  arms,  packed  in  pinno-cases,  cases  for  sewing  machines, 
and  wine  barrels,  in  order  to  conceal  them  effectually ;  and  the  par- 
cels were  consigned  to  a  merchant  firm  in  Cuba.  The  ship  steered 
for  one  d*y  towards  the  West  Indies,  in  order  to  avoid  suspicion,  and 


2g6 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


then  shaped  her  course  towards  Ireland.  Vessels  occasionally  came 
in  sight,  and  when  they  did  English  colors  were  hoisted.  Nothing  re- 
markable occurred  until  Easter  Sunday,  April  29th,  nearly  nine  days 
after  they  had  sailed  from  New  York.  The  parties  determined  to 
celebrate  that  day  as  a  festival,  and  they  hoisted  the  green  flag  with  a 
sunburst,  fired  a  salute,  and  changed  the  name  of  the  vessel,  calling 
her  '  Erin's  Hope.'  Kavanagh  then  produced  Fenian  commissions, 
and  distributed  them,  and  also  produced  sealed  orders,  from  which  it 
appeared  that  he  was  to  sail  to  Sligo  Bay,  and  there  land  his  men 
and  arms  ;  and  if  he  found  it  impracticable  to  land  them  there,  he 
was  to  proceed  to  some  other  place  in  Ireland.  Some  days  after  this 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  coast  of  the  county  of  Limerick,  and  then 
they  sailed  towards  Sligo  ;  but  they  overshot  the  mark,  and  arrived  off 
the  coast  of  Donegal.  They  then  turned  back,  and  arrived  at  Sligo 
Bay  on  the  20th  of  May." 

The  learned  gentleman  then  went  on  to  describe  certain  oc- 
currences alleged  to  have  taken  place  on  board  the  vessel  while 
she  remained  in  and  about  Sligo  Bay.  He  said  that  on  one 
evening  a  hooker  came  alongside,  from  which  a  man,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  a  gentleman,  got  on  board  the  brigantine.  This 
person  went  down  into  the  cabin,  conversed  with  the  ofificers, 
and  told  them  the  landing  could  not  be  effected  at  Sligo,  after 
which  he  returned  on  board  the  hooker,  and  sailed  for  the 
shore.     The  Attorney-General  said  : — 

"About  the  26th  of  May  the  ship  left  the  Sligo  coast.  On  the  ist  of 
June  she  arrived  at  Dungarvan.  During  the  voyage  councils  were 
held  on  board.  Provisions  were  running  short,  and  they  could  not  re- 
main nuich  longer  at  sea.  These  matters  were  made  the  subjects  of 
discussion.  Some  were  for  going  to  America,  and  some  for  landing ; 
and  at  last  the  conclusion  was  arrived  at  that  the  majority  of  the  offi- 
cers should  be  landed,  and  that  the  others  should  go  either  to  Ameri- 
ca or  to  the  Western  Isles — the  Hebrides.  They  hailed  a  large 
fishing  boat,  and  offered  the  man  on  board  £^2  to  put  two  men  on 
shore.  He  went  on  board  the  brigantine,  and  when  he  did  so,  twenty- 
eight  men  who  were  hitherto  concealed,  rushed  on  board  his  ship. 
He  asked  them  if  he  would  land  them  at  Helwick  Point,  and  they 
said  no,  because  there  was  a  coastguard  station  there.  They  were 
eventually  landed  about  two  miles  from  that  point,  and  they  were 
compelled  to  wade  through  water  three-and-a-half  feet  deep  to  the 
shore." 

So  far  the  learned  gentleman,  her  Majesty's  Attorney-Gen- 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


29; 


eral  for  Ireland.  His  statement  was  supported  by  the  infor, 
mations  and  the  evidence  of  the  informer,  Daniel  J.  Buckley, 
the  Judas  of  the  expedition.  He,  however,  represented  Kav- 
anagh  as  the  captain  of  the  vessel,  and  General  James  E. 
Kerrigan  as  chief  of  the  military  expedition.  As  to  the  arma* 
ment  on  board,  they  had,  he  said,  "  some  Spencer's  repeating 
rifles,  seven-shooters,  and  some  Enfield  rifles,  Austrian  rifles, 
Sharp's  and  Burnside's  breech-loaders,  and  some  revolvers. 
There  were  about  5,000  stand  of  arms  on  board,  and  three 
pieces  of  artillery,  which  would  fire  three-pound  shot  or  shell. 
With  these  pieces  the  salute  was  fired  on  the  occasion  of 
hoisting  the  sunburst  on  Easter  Sunday.  As  regards  ammuni- 
tion, there  were  about  a  million  and  a  half  rounds  on  board." 
Colonel  S.  R.  Tresilian,  in  the  lecture  already  alluded  to, 
gave  the  following  facetious  account  of  the  warlike  stores  which 
were  on  board  the  vessel : — 

"We  found  the  cargo  to  consist  of  5,000  rat-tail  files,  of  different 
sizes  and  descriptions.  Then  there  were  several  smaller  files,  that 
mechanics  carry  in  their  pockets;  then  again  there  was  the  flat  file,  in 
respectable  numbers,  that  are  used  for  cutting  on  either  edge,  and 
that  are  carried  in  sheaths,  to  prevent  the  mechanics  from  cutting 
their  neighbors*  fingers.  These  files  were  to  be  distributed  to  the 
paupers  in  Ireland,  to  enable  them  to  sharpen  their  teeth,  so  that 
they  could  masticate  animal  food  at  the  grand  barbecue  that  was 
to  be  given  on  the  landing  of  the  vessel.  Another  portion  of  the 
cargo  was  200,000  puff-balls  and  sugar-plums,  for  gratuitous  distribu- 
tion amongst  our  English  friends  and  brethren  in  Ireland." 

It  surely  was  a  daring  venture  to  run  that  craft,  freighted 
as  she  was,  across  the  ocean,  and  sail  her  for  days  along  the 
coast  of  Ireland.  The  lecturer  gave  the  following  account  of 
her  voyage : — 

"The  craft  made  three  landings  in  Ireland,  and  one  in  England,  and 
they  were  very  near  being  captured  several  times.  At  no  time  were 
they  over  twelve  miles  from  a  British  man-of  war,  a  frigate,  ram,  or 
gun-boat,  and  were  continually  annoyed  by  pilots.  They  were  at  sea 
107  days;  38  days  from  America  to  Ireland,  in  which  they  sailed  3,665 
miles;  24  days  round  the  coast  of  Ireland  and  England,  2,023  miles; 


ZgS  I^HE  DOCK  AND    THE    SCAFFOLD. 

47  days  from  Ireland  to  America,  3,577  miles;  making  a  grand  totJU 
of  9,265  miles." 

As  regards  the  return  voyage,  the  lecturer  gave  the  follow- 
ing information : — 

"On  the  return  trip  they  had,  in  starting  from  the  coast  of  Ireland, 
one  barrel  sound  bread,  one  barrel  mouldy  bread,  one  rice,  pork  6  lb., 
one  box  fish,  one  barrel  of  beef,  one  bushel  of  beans,  two  quarts  of 
molasses,  one-half  lb.  sugar,  tea  and  coffee  in  sufficient  quantities,  one- 
third  rations  of  water.  They  ran  out  of  e^^ery thing  except  bread  and 
water  before  reaching  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland,  where  they  recieved 
assistance  from  a  fishing-smack,  and  again,  off  Boston,  from  a  vessel 
bound  to  San  Francisco.  They  succeeded  in  landing  the  entire 
cargo  safely  in  America,  and  it  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  Fenian 
Brotherhood." 

It  is  a  strange  story  altogether.  The  voyage  of  the  vessel 
to  and  fro,  and  along  the  well-watched  coast  of  Ireland,  un- 
challenged by  a  British  ship,  is  a  fact  of  no  small  significance, 
even  if  it  be  not  quite  conclusive  as  regards  the  argument  of 
the  lecturer,  that  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  of  America  can, 
when  they  please,  land  large  supplies,  men  and  arms,  in  Ire- 
land. Then  the  interest  of  the  narrative  is  greatly  enhanced 
by  some  of  its  romantic  incidents,  more  especially  by  the 
remarkable  scene  stated  to  have  occurred  on  Easter  Sunday 
morning. 

News  of  the  landing  which  had  been  effected  near  Dungar- 
van  was  quickly  spread  amongst  the  coastguards  and  the  police, 
and  a  few  hours  afterwards  some  twenty-seven  men  were 
under  arrest,  charged  with  having  come  into  the  country  under 
suspicious  circumstances.  Amongst  them  were  two  whose 
trials  for  having  formed  part  of  an  armed  expedition  destined 
to  aid  a  rebellion  in  Ireland,  have  since  been  had  at  the  Com- 
mission which  opened  in  Dublin  on  the  28th  of  November, 
1867,  and  whose  spirited  defence  of  themselves  in  the  dock  it 
is  our  purpose  to  record  in  these  pages.  They  were  Colonel 
John  Warren,  of  the  American  army,  and  Augustine  E. 
Costello. 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  299 

The  trial  of  the  first-named  of  those  gentlemen  is  likely, 
owing  to  the  spirited  and  statesmanlike  course  which  he 
adopted  on  the  occasion,  to  become  memorable  for  all  time, 
and  to  have  a  prominent  place  in  the  histories  of  two  great 
nations — England  and  America.  One  of  its  results,  now  ac- 
tually  in  progress,  is  an  alteration  in  the  law  of  America,  on  a 
point  of  great  importance  to  both  countries  ;  and  this  alteration 
will  necessitate  a  corresponding  change,  if  not  in  the  law,  at 
least  in  the  practice,  of  the  English  courts.  From  these 
changes  will  ensue  consequences  of  the  utmost  gravity  to  Eng- 
land, but  of  unquestionable  advantage  to  the  Irish  people,  and 
the  cause  which  they  have  at  heart  ;  for  all  which  the  name  of 
Colonel  Warren  will  long  be  held  in  honor  and  in  grateful 
remembrance  among  his  countrymen. 

Colonel  Warren,  who  is  a  native  of  the  town  of  Clonakilty, 
in  the  county  of  Cork,  and  of  respectable  parentage,  emigrated 
to  the  United  States  some  twelve  years  ago,  and  in  due  course 
of  time,  like  most  of  his  countrymen  who  transfer  their  domi- 
cile to  that  free  and  great  country,  he  took  out  papers  of 
naturalization,  and  became  one  of  its  adopted  citizens.  That 
act  of  naturalization  is  the  declaration  of  a  contract  between 
the  American  government,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  new-made 
citizen  on  the  other,  whereby  the  latter  formally  and  solemnly 
transfers  his  allegiance  to  that  government,  and  withdraws  it 
from  any  other  which  might  previously  have  had  a  claim  on  it ; 
and  whereby  the  government,  on  its  part,  in  exchange  for  that 
allegiance,  engages  to  extend  to  him  all  the  liberties  and  rights 
possessed  by  its  native-born  subjects — the  benefit  of  its  laws, 
the  full  scope  of  its  franchises,  the  protection  of  its  flag.  In 
this  way  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men,  hunted  by  Brit- 
ish law  and  British  policy  out  of  Ireland,  have  during  recent 
years  been  added  to  the  number  of  brave  and  devoted  citizens 
possessed  by  the  United  States.  But  yet,  it  seems,  the  law  of 
England  affords  no  recognition  to  this  transfer  of  allegiance, 
expressly  denies  the  legality  of  any  such  act,  and  claims  as  sub- 
jects  of  the  British  crown,  not  only  all  persons  born  withiii 


300 


THE   DOCK  AND    THE    SCAFFOLD, 


British  jurisdiction,  but  also  their  sons  and  grandsons,  wherevcf 
their  domicile  and  their  place  of  birth  may  be.  Between  the 
British  law  on  the  subject  of  allegiance  and  the  American  sys- 
tem of  naturalization,  there  is,  therefore,  an  irreconcilable 
discrepancy ;  and  the  course  taken  by  Colonel  Warren,  on  his 
trial,  was  to  bring  this  question  of  law  between  the  two  gov- 
ernments to  a  direct  issue.  He  took  his  stand  on  his  American 
citizenship;  he  claimed  to  be  tried  as  an  alien;  and,  on  the 
bench  refusing  to  accede  to  his  demand,  he  abandoned  all  legal 
defence,  directed  his  counsel  to  withdraw  from  the  case,  and 
put  it  upon  his  government  to  maintain  the  honor  and  vindi- 
cate the  laws  of  America,  by  affording  him  the  protection  to 
which  he  was  entitled. 

Other  Irishmen,  naturalized  citizens  of  America,  had  pre- 
viously been  tried  and  sentenced  for  Fenian  practices,  includ- 
ing acts  done  and  words  spoken  by  them  in  America,  which 
would  not  have  come  within  the  cognizance  of  the  court  had 
they  been  tried  otherwise  than  as  British  subjects;  and  in  their 
addresses  to  the  court  they  had  made  reference,  proudly  and 
hopefully,  to  the  fact  that  they  were  adopted  sons  of  that 
great  country ;  but  none  of  them  had  struck  upon  a  course  so 
well  calculated  as  that  taken  by  Colonel  Warren  to  raise  the 
international  question,  and  necessitate  a  distinct  and  speedy 
solution  of  it.  He  had  a  good  case  to  go  before  the  jury,  had 
he  allowed  himself  to  be  legally  defended,  and  he  was  perfectly 
aware  of  that  fact ;  but  he  clearly  perceived  that,  by  taking 
the  other  course,  whatever  might  be  the  consequences  to  him- 
self, he  would  be  able  to  render  better  service  both  to  his 
adopted  country  and  his  native  land.  He  took  that  course, 
and  it  is,  therefore,  that  he  is  to-day  in  a  British  convict 
prison,  far  away  from  his  home  and  friends,  from  his  wife  and 
his  children,  subject  to  all  the  restraints  and  indignities  im- 
posed by  England  on  the  vilest  and  meanest  of  her  criminals, 
and  with  a  term  of  fifteen  years  of  such  treatment  decreed  to 
him.  Let  us  be  able  to  say,  at  least,  that  his  countrymen  are 
not  unmindful  of  tiie  sacrifice. 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  3OI 

In  the  course  of  the  trial,  which  was  had  before  Chief  Baron 
Pigot  and  Mr.  Justice  Keogh,  in  the  Commission  Court,  Dul> 
Hn,  Colonel  Warren  offered  some  few  remarks  on  the  evidence, 
and  put  some  questions  to  the  witnesses,  all  of  which  showed 
considerable  acumen  on  his  part,  and  were  thoroughly  ad  rem. 
He  complained  particularly  of  the  manner  in  which  his  identi- 
fication was  obtained.  Gallagher,  who  had  piloted  the  "  Erin's 
Hope"  around  the  west  coast  of  Ireland,  swore  to  his  identity 
as  one  of  the  party  who  were  on  board ;  but  the  prisoner  con- 
tended that  Gallagher's  knowledge  of  him  was  acquired,  not 
on  board  that  vessel,  but  in  Kilmainham  gaol,  where  Gallagher 
had  been  his  fellow-prisoner  for  some  weeks,  during  which  time 
he  had  abundant  opportunities  of  learning  his.  Colonel  War- 
ren's, name,  and  the  charge  against  him.  But  it  was  a  vain 
thing,  as  far  as  the  jury  were  concerned,  to  indulge  in  such 
criticisms  of  the  evidence.  There  were  times  in  Irish  and  in 
English  history,  when  juries  could  rise  above  the  panic  of  the 
hour,  and  refuse  to  minister  to  the  passion  of  the  government, 
but  we  have  fallen  upon  other  times,  and,  now-a-days,  to  be 
accused  of  a  political  crime  means  to  be  convicted. 

A  verdict  of  ''  guilty"  against  Colonel  Warren  was  returned, 
as  a  matter  of  course.  On  Saturday,  November  i6th,  he,  with 
two  other  prisoners,  was  brought  up  for  sentence.  On  the 
usual  interrogatory  being  put  to  him,  the  following  proceedings 
took  place : — 

Warren — "  I  claim  the  privilege  established  by  precedent.  I  have 
had  no  opportunity  of  making  any  remarks  on  my  case,  and  I  would 
now  wish  to  say  a  few  words. " 

The  Chief  Baron — "  Just  state  what  you  have  to  say;  we  are  ready 
to  hear  you." 

Warren— ''I  desire,  in  the  first  place,  to  explain,  while  ignoring 
the  jurisdiction  of  this  court  to  sentence  me,  and  while  assuming  my 
original  position,  my  reasons  for  interfering  in  this  case  at  all.  I  can 
see  beyond  my  present  position,  the  importance  of  this  case,  and  I 
wa.  desirous  to  instruct  the  jury,  either  directly,  or  indirectly,  of  the 
importance  of  their  decision,  while  never  for  a  moment  deviating  from 
the  position  which  I  assumed.  I  submit  that  I  effectually  did  that. 
They  incautiously,  and  foolishly  for  themselves  and  the  country  of 


302 


THE  DOCK  ANL    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


which  they  claimed  to  be  subjects,  have  raised  an  issue  which  has  to 
be  settled  by  a  higher  tribunal  than  this  court." 

Chief  Baron — "I  cannot  allow  you  to  continue  these  observations." 

Prisoner — "  I  propose  to  show  thM  the  verdict  is  contrary  to 
evidence." 

The  Chief  Baron — "I  must  again  tell  you  that  you  are  not  at 
liberty  to  do  that." 

Prisoner — "  I  propose  to  answer  briefly  the  question  why  the  sen- 
tence of  the  court  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  me.  Do  I  under- 
stand you  to  refuse  me  that  privilege  ?" 

The  Chief  Baron — "Certainly  not;  but  I  am  bound  in  point  of 
law  to  refuse  to  hear  you  upon  any  matter  respecting  the  verdict. 
We  are  bound  by  that  verdict  just  as  much  us  you  are.  That  is  the 
law." 

Prisoner — *' I  have  been  indicted  with  a  number  of  parties,  one  of 
whom  had  been  identified  in  America.  I  have  been  tried  and  con- 
victed. What  position  do  I  stand  in  now  ?  Am  I  convicted  on  the 
evidence  of  Corydon,  who  swears  that  I  belonged  to  the  Fenian  Bro- 
therhood in   1863  .?     Does  that  prove  that  I  belonged  to  it  in  1867  .''" 

The  Chief  Baron  then  explained  that  what  he  left  to  the  jury 
was,  that  if  they  believed  upon  the  evidence  that  on  the  5th 
of  March  the  prisoner  belonged  to  the  Fenian  confederacy, 
having  for  its  object  the  deposition  of  the  Queen,  he  would  be 
ansv/erable  for  the  acts  done  by  his  confederate^,  whether  he 
was  present  or  absent  at  the  time. 

Prisoner — "  You  instructed  the  jury,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  fact 
of  mv  holding  the  position  of  a  colonel  in  1863  was  suffici-?nt  corrobor- 
ation of  the  evidence  that  I  belonged  to  it  in  1867." 

The  Chief  Baron — "  I  told  the  jury  that  holding  the  rank  of  colonel 
was  evidence,  for  their  consideration,  upon  which  to  determine  whether 
you  previously  belonged  to  the  Fenian  confederacy.  I  told  them  they 
were  at  liberty  to  consider  whether  you  would  have  got  th^^t  rank  if 
you  then  joined  for  the  first  time." 

Prisoner — '*  Precisely  the  same  thing,  but  in  different  phraseology. 
Am  I  to  understand  that  I  have  not  liberty  to  address  the  couirt  as  to 
why  sentence  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  me  ?" 

The  Chief  Baron — "  You  are  not  so  to  consider.  You  are  at  liberty 
to  address  the  court,  but  you  are  not  at  liberty  to  comment  upon  the 
evidence  to  show  that  the  verdict  was  wrong." 

Prisoner — "  What  can  I  speak  on  ?  To  what  I  can  speak,  If  not  to 
something  connected  with  my  case  ?  I  am  not  here  to  refer  ^  n 
church  matter,  or  any  political /a uestijon." 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


303 


The  Chief  Baron — "  I  have  informed  you  what  we  are  bound  to 
rule." 

Prisoner — "  Then  I  state,  my  lord,  that  as  an  American  citizen,  I 
protest  against  the  whole  jurisdiction  of  this  court,  from  the  commence- 
ment of  my  arraignn^ent  down  to  the  end  of  my  trial.  I  protest 
against  being  brought  here  forcibly,  and  against  my  being  convicted 
on  the  evidence  of  a  man  whom  you  yourselves  designated  a  man  of 
the  most  odious  character.  You  instructed  the  jury  pointedly  on  one 
occasion,  and  subsequently  you  said  that  no  respectable  jury  could 
act  on  his  evidence,  and  that  it  was  a  calamity  for  any  government  to 
have  to  resort  to  the  evidence  of  such  a  man.  I  do  not  wish  to  say 
anything  disrespectful  to  this  court,  but  I  think  I  may  say  that  if  I 
stand  here  as  a  convicted  felon,  the  privilege  should  be  accorded  to 
me  that  has  been  accorded  to  every  other  person  who  stood  here  be- 
fore me  in  a  similar  position.  There  is  a  portion  of  the  trial  to 
which  I  particularly  wish  to  refer.  That  is,  in  reference  to  the 
oath  which  it  was  stated  the  pilot  was  forced  to  take  on  board 
the  vessel.  Much  importance  was  attached  to  this  matter,  and 
therefore  I  wish  to  ask  you  and  others  in  this  court  to  look  and  to 
inquire  if  there  is  any  man  here  who  could  suppose  that  I  am  scoun- 
drel enough  and  ignorant  enough  to  take  an  ignorant  man,  put  a  pis- 
tol to  his  face,  and  force  him  to  take  an  oath?  I  ask  you,  in  the  first 
place,  not  to  believe  that  I  am  such  a  scoundrel,  and,  in  the  second, 
that  I  am  not  such  an  idiofe.  If  I  were  at  this  moment  going  to 
my  grave,  I  could  say  that  I  never  saw  that  man  Gallagher  till  I  saw 
him  in  Kilmainham  prison.  These  men,  although  they  have  been, 
day  after  day,  studying  lessons  under  able  masters,  contradicted  each 
other  on  the  trial,  and  have  been  perjuring  themselves.  Gallagher,  in 
his  evidence,  swore  that  his  first  and  second  informations  were  false, 
and  that  he  knev»'  them  to  be  false.  It  is  contrary  to  all  precedent 
to  convict  a  man  on  the  evidence  of  a  witness  who  admits  that  he 
swore  what  was  false.  In  America  I  have  seen  judges,  hundreds  of 
times,  sentencing  men  who  were  taken  off  the  table,  put  into  the  dock, 
and  sent  to  prison.  In  this  case,  this  poor,  ignorant  man  was  brought 
into  Kilmainham  gaol  on  the  ist  of  July.  He  knew  my  name,  heard  it 
called  several  times,  knew  of  the  act  of  which  I  was  suspected,  and  on 
the  2d  of  August,  he  was  taken  away.  On  the  12th  of  October,  he  is 
brought  back,  and,  out  of  a  party  of  forty  or  fifty,  he  identifies  only  three. 
If  that  man  came  on  board  the  vessel  he  did  so  in  his  ordinary  capacity 
as  a  pilot.  He  did  his  duty,  got  his  pay,  and  left.  His  subsequent 
evidence  was  additions.  With  respect  to  the  vessel,  I  submit  that 
there  was  not  a  shadow  of  evidence  to  prove  that  there  was  any  inten- 
tion of  a  hostile  landing,  and  that  the  evidence  as  to  the  identity  of 
the  vessel  would  not  stand  for  a  moment  where  either  law  or  justice 
would  be  regarded.  Now,  as  to  the  Flying  Dutchman  which  it  is  said 
appeared  on  the  coast  of  Sligo  and  on  the  coast  of  Dungarvan,  in 


304  ^-^^   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

Gallagher's  information  nothing  is  said  about  the  dimensions  of  the 
vessel.  Neither  length,  breadth,  or  tonnage  is  given,  but  in  making 
his  second  information  he  revised  the  first." 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  argue  that  there  was  nothing 
to  show  that  the  vessel  which  had  appeared  off  Sligo  har- 
bor was  the  same  as  that  which  appeared  ofT  Dungarvan,  ex- 
cept the  testinnony  of  the  informer,  Buckley,  of  which  there 
was  no  corroboration.  He  also  denied  the  truth  of  Corydon's 
evidence,  in  several  particulars,  and  then  went  on  to  say : — 

"  As  to  the  position  in  which  I  am  now  placed  by  British  law,  I  have 
to  repeat  that  I  am  an  American  citizen,  and  owe  allegiance  to  the 
government  of  the  United  States.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  have  belonged 
to  the  National  militia  of  America.  Now,  if  Avar  had  broken  out  be- 
tween the  two  countries,  and  that  I  had  been  taken  prisoner,  the  Eng- 
lish government,  according  to  English  law,  would  hold  me  guilty  of 
high  treason.  I  would  not  be  treated  as  an  ordinary  prisoner  of  war, 
but  would  be  liable  to  be  strung  up  at  the  yardarm.  See,  then,  the 
position  of  England  towards  the  United  States.  The  crown  should 
not  be  in  such  haste  to  act  thus.  It  was  hardly  a  judicious  policy. 
Andrew  Johnson  was  the  grandson  of  an  Irishman  ;  Mr.  Seward  was 
the  son  of  an  Irishwoman  ;  General  Jackson  was  the  son  of  an  Irish- 
man ;  General  Washington  and  Benjamin  Franklin  lived  and  died 
British  subjects,  if  this  law  be  correct.  There  is  another  point  to 
which  I  wish  to  refer — it  is  to  the  manner  in  which  my  government 
has  acted  in  this  matter — " 

The  Chief  Baron — ''We  cannot  allow  you  to  enter  into  remarks  on 
the  conduct  of  any  government.  We  have  simply  to  sit  here  to 
administer  the  law  we  are  called  upon  to  discharge." 

The  Prisoner — "  I  wish  simply  to  call  your  attention  to  one  point. 
On  the  3d  of  August  I  wrote  to  the  government — " 

The  Chief  Baron — "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  refer  to  that." 

The  Prisoner — "  The  President  of  the  United  States,  on  a  report 
submitted  to  him — *' 

The  Chief  Baron — "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  proceed  with  any  refer- 
ence to  what  has  been  done  by  any  government.  We  are  only  here 
to  administer  the  laws  which  we  are  sworn  to  administer." 

The  Prisoner— "I  was  simply  going  to  state  that  while  the  vile 
officials  of  your  government — " 

.  The  Chief  Baron— "We  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  conduct  of 
any  government.  We  are  here  to  dispense  justice  according  to  law, 
and  whatever  the  officials  of  our  government  or  the  American  govern- 
ment have  done  cannot  have  the  slightest  influence  upon  our  judg- 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 


305 


ment.  It  can  neither  affect  us  favorably  or  unfavorably  to  the  prisoner 
or  to  the  crown.     We  stand  indifferently  between  both." 

The  Prisoner — *'I  beg  simply  to  call  your  lordship's  attention  to  the 
correspondence — " 

The  Chief  Baron — "We  cannot  allow  you  to  do  so.  We  cannot 
allow  you  to  refer  to  the  correspondence  between  the  officials  of  one 
government  and  officials  of  another. 

The  Prisoner — "  If  America  does  not  resent  England's  conduct  to- 
wards me,  and  protect  that  allegiance  to  her  government  which  I 
proudly  own  is  the  only  allegiance  I  ever  acknowledged,  I  shall  call 
on  the  thirteen  millions  of  Irishmen — " 

The  Chief  Baron — "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  use  the  position  in  which 
you  stand  there  as  the  arena  for  those  observations." 

Prisoner — "  I  must  then  state,  in  conclusion,  that  while  I  protest 
against  the  jurisdiction,  I  am  confident  that  the  position  which  I  take 
will  be  sustained.  I  know  that  the  verdict  of  the  jury  will  be  reversed, 
and  while  returning  you,  my  lord,  thanks  for  your  kindness  during  the 
trial,  I  must  say  you  have  taken  from  me  the  privilege  I  am  entitled 
to  get.  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  live  longer  than  the  British  Constitu- 
tion." 


AUGUSTINE  E.  COSTELLO. 

FTER  the  verdict  had  been  returned  against  Colonel 
Warren,  Augustine  E.  Costello  v^^as  put  on  his  trial, 
charged  with  the  same  offence — that  of  having  formed 
one  of  the  invading  party  who  landed  from  the 
*'  Erin's  Hope,"  in  the  neighborhood  of  Dungarvan. 
He,  too,  was  an  adopted  citizen  of  the  United  States, 
and  he  declared  that  he  was  anxious  to  follow  the  course  that 
had  been  taken  by  his  friend.  Colonel  Warren,  in  reference  to  his 
trial ;  but  deferring  to  the  strongly-expressed  wish  of  his  coun- 
sel, he  would  leave  his  case  in  their  hands.  An  able  defence 
was  made  for  him  by  Messrs.  Heron  and  Molloy,  Q.C.,  in- 
structed by  Mr.  Scallon,  Solicitor ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain. 

When  he  was  called  on  to  say  why  sentence  should  not  be 
pronounced  on  him,  he  delivered  the  following  address  in  a 


3o6  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

loud  tone  of  voice,  his  fresh  young  face  glowing  with  emotion 
as  he  spoke,  and  his  manner  showing  deep  excitement,  but 
withal  a  fearless  and  noble  spirit : — 

"  In  answer  to  the  question  put  to  me  by  the  clerk  of  the  court,  I 
will  speak  a  few  words.  I  don't  intend  to  say  much,  and  I  will 
trespass  on  forbidden  ground  but  as  little  as  possible.  I  am  perfectly 
satisfied  that  there  has  not  been  one  fact  established  or  proved  that 
would  justify  a  conscientious  and  impartial  jury  in  finding  me  guilty 
of  treason-felony.  There  is  an  extreme  paucity  of  evidence  against 
me — that  every  one  who  has  been  here  while  the  case  has  been  pro- 
ceeded with  will  admit  frankly  and  candidly.  We  need  no  stronger 
proof  of  this  fact  than  that  the  first  jury  that  was  impanelled  to  try  me 
had,  after  a  long  and  patient  hearing  of  the  case,  to  be  discharged 
without  having  found  me  guilty  of  treason-felony.  Ah!  there  were  a 
few  honest  men  on  that  jury.  They  knew  that  Augustine  E.  Costello 
was  not  guilty  of  the  crime  trumped  up  against  him.  They  knew  I 
was  not  guilty.  Mr.  Anderson,  sitting  there,  knows  that  I  am  not  a 
felon,  but  that  I  am  an  honest  man  ;  that  as  such  I  stand  here  on 
this  dock,  where  Robert  Emmet  stood,  where  Robert  Emmet  spoke 
from  ;  and  the  actions  and  the  words  of  that  Emmet  have  immortal- 
ized him,  and  he  now  lies  embalmed  in  the  hearts  of  the  world." 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  proceed  in  that 
strain." 

Costello — "  I  can  say  to  those  assembled  here,  and  who  are  now 
listening  to  me,  that  I  stand  here,  branded,  as  I  am,  a  felon,  but  with 
a  clear  conscience.  No  one  can  point  the  finger  of  scorn  against  me, 
and  say  I  have  sold  my  brother  and  committed  perjury.  Can  any  man 
in  this  court-house  lay  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  say  the  same  ?  An- 
swer me,  Mr.  Anderson.     Answer  me.  Governor  Price." 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — ''You  are  again  transgressing.  You  had 
better  stop  for  a  moment  or  two;  you  seem  to  be  excited." 

Costello — "  My  lord,  as  you  truly  remark,  I  have  allowed  my  feel- 
ings to  run  away  with  my  discretion;  but  it  is  hard  for  a  man  to 
stand  here,  satisfied  as  I  am  of  innocence,  knowing  full  well  that  I 
have  committed  no  wrong;  it  is  hard  for  a  man  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  when  the  world  looks  fair  and  prosperous  to  him,  when  all 
he  loves  is  in  that  world — it  is  hard  that  a  man  should  be  torn  from 
it,  and  incarcerated  in  a  living  tomb.  My  lords,  I  am  an  humble 
individual;  I  claim  no  rights  but  the  rights  that  emanated  from  a 
Godhead — the  rights  that  were  given  to  me  at  the  hour  of  my  birth. 
That  right  is  my  inalienable  liberty,  and  that  no  government,  no 
people,  has  a  right  to  take  from  me.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied^  to 
•tand  before  a  British  tribunal  to  answer  for  acts  or  words  of  mine, 
if  I  break  any  of  the  laws  of  the  country;  but,  my  lords,  you  must 


THE   DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  307 

admit  that  I  have  transgressed  no  law.  His  lordship,  Judge  Keogh 
— I  must  now  candidly  admit  that  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about 
that  gentleman  that  was  not  at  all  complimentary  to  him — but  I 
say  for  myself  that  his  lordship,  Judge  Keogh,  has  dealt  with  me 
in  the  fairest  manner  he  could  have  done.  I  have  nothing  to  say 
against  the  administration  of  the  law,  as  laid  down  by  you;  but  I 
say,  a  people  who  boast  of  their  freedom — who  hold  up  their  magnani- 
mous doings  to  the  world  for  approval  and  praise — I  say  those  people 
are  the  veriest  slaves  in  existence  to  allow  laws  to  exist  for  a  moment 
which  deprive  a  man  of  liberty." 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — "  It  is   impossible  for  a  court  adminis- 
tering the  law  to  allow  you  to  speak  in  such  terms  against  such  law." 

CosTELLO — "  I  speak  under  correction,  my  lord.  You  must,  if  you 
please,  be  assured  that  I  do  not  attribute  any  wrong  to  your  lord- 
ships— far  be  it  from  me;  I  acknowledge  and  again  reiterate  that. 
So  far  as  the  law  is  concerned,  I  have  had  a  dose  that  has  almost 
killed  me;  but  if  there  was  a  little — a  very  little — justice  mixed  in 
that  law,  I  would  not  now  be  addressing  your  lordships.  Of  the 
law  I  have  had  sufficient,  but  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
justice  is  not  to  be  found  inside  a  British  court-house.  My  lords,  I 
complain,  and  grievously,  of  what  my  friend  Colonel  Warren,  and 
my  friend  General  Halpin,  complained  of — of  being  tried  in  this 
court  as  a  British  subject,  and  I  think  your  lordships  will  not  repri- 
mand me  much  for  that  expression.  I  left  the  shores  of  my  native 
land — Ireland  is  the  land  of  my  birth,  and  I  am  proud  to  own  it.  I 
am  proud  to  say  that  I  am  an  Irishman,  but  I  am  also  proud  and 
happy  to  state  that  I  am  an  adopted  citizen  of  the  United  States; 
and  while  true  to  the  land  of  my  birth,  I  can  never  be  false  to  the 
land  of  my  adoption.  That  is  not  an  original  phrase,  but  it  expresses 
the  idea  which  I  mean  to  convey.  Now,  my  lords,  my  learned 
and  very  able  counsel,  who  have  conducted  my  case  with  the 
greatest  ability  and  zeal,  and  of  whom  I  cannot  speak  in  terms  of 
sufficient  praise,  demanded  for  me  a  jury  half  alien.  I  was  refused 
it.  I  was  born  in  this  country,  and  I  was,  while  breath  remained  in 
my  body,  a  British  subject.  In  God's  name — if  I  may  mention  His 
holy  name  without  sufficient  reasons — what  affection  should  I  have 
for  England?  You  cannot  stamp  out  the  instincts  that  are  in  the 
breast  of  man — man  will  be  man  to  the  end  of  time — the  very  worm 
you  tread  upon  will  turn  upon  your  feet.  If  I  remained  in  this 
country  till  I  descended  to  the  grave,  I  would  remain  in  obscurity 
and  poverty.  I  left  Ireland,  not  because  I  disliked  the  country — I 
love  Ireland  as  I  love  myself — I  left  Ireland  for  the  very  good  and 
cogent  reason  that  I  could  not  live  in  Ireland.  But  why  could  I  not 
live  here  ?  I  m  ust  not  say ;  that  would  be  trespassing.  I  must  not  men- 
tion why  I  was  forced  to  leave  Ireland — why  I  am  now  placed  in  this 
dock.     Think  you,  my  lords,  that  I  would  injure  a  living  being — that 


3o8  '^HE  DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD. 

I  would,  of  my  own  free  accord,  willingly  touch  a  hair  upon  the  head 
of  any  man  ?  No,  my  lords,  far  would  it  be  from  me  ;  but  the  gov- 
ernment which  has  left  our  people  in  misery — " 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — ''  I  cannot  allow  you  to  trespass  on  politi- 
cal grievances." 

CosTELLO — *'  I  am  afraid  I  am  occupying  the  time  of  court  too 
much,  but  really,  a  man  placed  in  such  a  position  as  I  now  occupy 
finds  it  necessary  to  make  a  few  observations.  I  know  it  savors  of 
a  great  deal  that  is  bad  and  foul  to  be  mixed  up  with  Fenian  rebels, 
assassins,  and  cut-throats.  It  is  very  bad  ;  it  is  not  a  very  good 
recommendation  for  a  young  man.  Even  were  that  fact  proved 
home  to  me — that  I  were  a  Fenian — no  act  of  mine  has  ever  thrown 
dishonor  on  the  name.  I  know  not  what  Fenian  means.  I  am  an 
Irishman,  and  that  is  all-sufficient." 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  criticise  the  evidence  against 
him  at  considerable  length.  He  declared  emphatically  that 
one  of  the  documents  sworn  to  be  in  his  handwriting  was  not 
written  by  him.     He  thus  continued: — 

"Your  lordships  are  well  aware  that  there  are  many  contradictions  in 
the  informer's  testimony,  and  now,  here  is  a  matter  which  I  am  going 
to  mention  for  the  first  time.  Corydon,  in  his  first  information  at 
Kilmainham,  swears  that  he  never  knew  me  until  he  saw  me  at  a 
Fenian  pic-nic,  and  this  he  modifies  afterwards  by  the  remark,  that 
any  one  would  be  allowed  into  these  pic-nics  on  the  payment  of  a  cer- 
tain sum.  I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  what  the  fellow  was  say- 
ing about  me,  as  I  thought  it  did  not  affect  me  in  the  least ;  but  this 
I  can  distinctly  remember,  that  Mr.  Anderson,  jun. — and  he  is  there 
to  say  if  I  am  saying  anything  false — said  that  the  evidence  of  Cory- 
don did  not  affect  any  one  of  the  prisoners  put  in  this  dock  but  an- 
other and  myself.  It  is  very  strange  if  that  was  said  by  Mr.  Ander- 
son. He  knew  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  got  out  of  Cory- 
don, the  informer — that  he  had  told  everything  he  knew  in  his  informa- 
tion, but  on  pressure  there  was  found  to  be  a  little  left  in  the 
sponge.  They  refreshed  his  memory  a  little,  and  he  comes  to  think 
that  he  saw  Costello  at  a  meeting  in  814  Broadway,  I  think  he  gives  it. 
And  here  is  a  singular  occurrence — that  Devany,  who  never  swore  an 
information  against  me,  comes  on  the  table  and  swears  that  he  also 
saw  me  at  814  Broadway.  Here  is  one  informer  striving  to  corroborate 
the  other.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  these  informers  speak  to  each 
other,  go  over  the  evidence,  and  what  is  more  likely  than  that  they 
should  make  their  evidence  to  agree — say,  'I  will  corroborate  your 
story,  you  corroborate  mine.'  By  this  means  was  it  that  the  overt 
acts  of  the  5th  of  March,  which  took  place  at  Stepaside,  Glencullen 

r- 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD.  30^ 

and  Tallaght,  were  brought  home  to  Costello — a  man  who  was  4,000 
miles  away,  and  living — and  I  say  it  on  the  word  of  a  man,  a  Christian 
man — peaceably,  not  belonging  to  that  confederation.  I  did  not  be- 
long to  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  for  twelve  months  before  I  left  Amer- 
ica, if  I  did  belong  to  it  any  other  time,  so  help  me  God  !  God  wit- 
nesses what  I  say,  and  He  records  my  words  above.  It  is  a  painful 
position  to  be  placed  in.  I  know  I  am  a  little  excited.  Were  I  to 
speak  of  this  matter  under  other  circumstances,  I  would  be  more  cool 
and  collected.  Were  I  conscious  of  guilt — did  I  know  that  I  merited 
this  punishment,  I  would  not  speak  a  word,  but  say  that  I  deserved 
and  well  merited  the  punishment  about  to  be  inflicted  upon  me.  But, 
my  lords,  there  never  was  a  man  convicted  in  this  court  more  inno- 
cent of  the  charges  made  against  him  than  Costello.  The  overt  acts 
committed  in  the  county  of  Dablin,  admitting  that  the  law  of  Eng- 
land is  as  it  was  laid  down  by  your  (lordship,  that  a  man,  a  member 
of  this  confederacy,  if  he  lived  in  China,  was  responsible  for  the  acts 
of  his  confederates — admitting  that  to  be  law,  I  am  still  an  innocent 
man.  Admitting  and  conceding  that  England  has  a  right  to  try  me  as 
a  British  subject,  I  still  am  an  innocent  man.  Why  do  I  make  these 
assertions  ?  I  know  full  well  they  cannot  have  any  effect  in  lessening 
the  term  of  my  sentence.  Can  I  speak  for  the  sake  of  having  an  au- 
dience here  to  listen  to  me  ?  Do  1  speak  for  the  satisfaction  of  hear- 
ing my  own  feeble  voice  ?  I  am  not  actuated  by  such  motives.  I 
speak  because  I  wish  to  let  you  know  that  I  believe  m  yself  innocent ; 
a-nd  he  would  be  a  hard-hearted  man,  indeed,  who  would  grudge  me 
those  few  sentences.  Now,  my  lord,  I  have  observed  I  did  not  be- 
long to  the  Fenian  confederacy  in  March  of  this  present  year.  I  did 
not  belong  to  the  Fenian  confederacy  anterior  to  the  period  that 
Corydon  and  Devany  allege  that  they  saw  me  act  as  centre  and  secre- 
tary to  Fenian  meetings ;  that,  anterior  to  that  period,  I  never  took 
act  or  part  in  the  Fenian  conspiracy  up  to  the  period  of  my  leaving 
America.  Does  it  do  me  any  good  to  make  these  statements  ?  I  ask 
favors,  as  Halpin  said,  from  no  man.  I  ask  nothing  but  justice — stern 
justice — even-handed  justice.  If  I  am  guilty — if  I  have  striven  to 
overthrow  the  government  of  this  country,  if  I  have  striven  to  revolu- 
tionize this  country,  I  consider  myself  enough  of  a  soldier  to  bare  my 
breast  to  the  consequences,  no  matter  whether  that  consequence  may 
reach  me  on  the  battle-field  or  in  the  cells  of  Pentonville.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  punishment.  I  have  moral  courage  to  bear  all  that  can  be 
heaped  upon  me  in  Pentonville,  Portland,  or  Kilmainham,  designated 
by  one  of  us  as  the  modern  Bastile.  I  cannot  be  worse  treated,  no 
matter  where  you  send  me  to.  There  never  was  a  more  infernal  dun- 
geon on  God's  earth  than  Kilmainham.  It  is  not  much  to  the  point, 
my  lord.  I  will  not  say  another  word  about  it.  I  believe  I  saw  in 
some  of  the  weekly  papers  that  it  would  be  well  to  appoint  a  commis* 
sion  to  inquire — " 


2IO  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — ''  I  cannot  allow  you  to  proceed  with  that 
subject." 

CosTELLO — "  I  will  not  say  another  word.  I  will  conclude  now. 
There  is  much  I  could  say,  yet  a  man  in  my  position  cannot  help 
speaking.  There  are  a  thousand  and  one  points  affecting  me  here, 
affecting  my  character  as  a  man,  affecting  my  life,  and  well-being, 
and  he  would  be  a  hard-hearted  man  who  could  blame  me  for  speak- 
ing in  strong  terms.  I  feel  that  I  have  within  me  the  seeds  of  a  dis- 
ease that  will  soon  put  me  into  an  early  grave,  and  I  have  within  my 
breast  the  seeds  of  a  disease  which  will  never  allow  me  to  see  the  ex- 
piration of  my  imprisonment.  It  is,  my  lord,  a  disease,  and  I  hope 
you  will  allow  me  to  speak  on  this  subject,  which  has  resulted  from 
the  treatment  I  have  been  subjected  to.  I  will  pass  over  it  as  rapidly 
as  I  can,  because  it  is  a  nasty  subject — Kilmainham.  But  the  treat- 
ment that  I  have  received  at  Kihnainham — I  will  not  particularize  any 
man,  or  the  conduct  of  any  man — has  been  most  severe,  most  harsh,  not 
fit  for  a  beast,  much  less  a  human  being.  I  was  brought  to  Kilmainham, 
so  far  as  I  know,  without  any  warrant  from  the  Lord- Lieutenant.  I  was 
brought  on  a  charge  the  most  visonary  and  airy.  No  man  knew  what 
I  was.  No  one  could  tell  me  or  specify  to  me  the  charge  on  which  I 
was  detained.  I  asked  the  magistrates  at  Dungarvan  to  advise  me  of 
these  charges.  They  would  not  tell  me.  At  last  I  drove  them  into 
such  a  corner,  as  I  might  call  it,  that  one  of  them  rose  up  and  said, 
with  much  force,  'You  area  Fenian.'  Now,  my  lords,  that  is  a  very 
accommodating  word.  If  a  man  only  breaks  a  window  now,  he  is  a 
Fenian.  If  I  could  bring,  or  if  I  had  only  the  means  of  bringing, 
witnesses  from  America,  I  would  have  established  my  innocence  here 
without  probability  of  doubt.  I  would  have  brought  a  host  of  witnesses 
to  prove  that  Costello  was  not  the  centre  of  a  circle  in  1866.  I 
would  have  brought  a  host  of  witnesses  to  prove  that  he  was  not  the 
secretary  of  a  circle — never,  in  all  his  life.  My  lords,  J  speak  calmly 
and  weigh  well,  and  understand  every  word  that  I  say.  If  I  speak 
wrong,  time  will  bring  the  truth  to  the  surface,  and  I  would  sooner 
have  fifteen  years  added  to  my  sentence  than  that  any  man  mic;ht  say 
I  spoke  from  this  dock,  which  I  regard  as  a  holy  place,  where  stood 
those  whom  I  revere  as  much  as  I  do  any  of  our  saints — " 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — -"  I  cannot  suffer  you  to  proceed  ih:;^.*" 

Costello — "  I  would  not  speak  one  word  from  this  dock  v.hich  I 
knew  to  be  other  than  truth.  I  admit  there  is  a  great  deal  of  suspi- 
cion, but  beyond  that  there  are  no  facts  proved  to  bring  home  the 
charge  against  me.  What  I  have  stated  are  facts,  every  one  of  them. 
Now,  my  lords,  is  it  any  wonder  that  I  should  speak  at  random,  and 
appear  a  little  bit  excited?  I  am  not  excited  in  the  least.  I  would 
be  excited  in  a  degree  were  I  expressing  myself  on  any  ordinary  topic 
to  an  ordinary  audience.  It  is  my  manner,  your  lordships  will  ad- 
mit, and  you  have  instructed  the  jury  not  to  find  me  guilty,  but  td 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE  SCAFFOLD.  3II 

discharge  me  from  the  dock,  if  they  were  not  positive  that  I  was 
a  Fenian  on  the  5th  of  March.  I  believe  these  are  tne  instructions  that 
his  lordship,  Justice  Keogh,  gave  to  the  jury — if  I  were  not  a  Fenian 
on  the  5  th  of  March,  I  was  entitled  to  an  acquittal.  Weil,  I  was  not  a 
Fenian  at  that  time.  I  say  so,  as  I  have  to  answer  to  God.  Now,  to 
conclude.  I  have  not  said  much  about  being  an  American  citizen. 
For  why  ?  I  am  not  permitted  to  speak  on  that  subject.  Now,  as 
Colonel  Warren  remarked,  if  I  am  an  American  citizen,  I  am  not  to 
be  held  responsible,  but  to  the  American  government.  I  did  not 
press  myself  on  that  government.  They  extended  to  me  those  rights 
and  those  privileges;  they  said  to  me,  'Come  forward,  young  man; 
enroll  yourself  under  our  banner,  under  our  flag;  we  extend  to  you 
our  rights  and  privileges — we  admit  you  to  the  franchise.'  I  came 
not  before  I  was  asked.  The  invitation  was  extended  to  me.  I  had 
no  love  then,  and  never  will  have,  towards  England,  and  I  accepted 
the  invitation.  I  did  forswear  allegiance  to  all  foreign  potentates, 
and  more  particularly  I  forswore  all  allegiance  to  the  crown  of  Great 
Britain.  Your  lordships  say  that  the  law  of  the  land  rules  that  I  had 
no  right  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  That  is  a  question  for  the  gov- 
ernments to  settle.  America  is  guilty  of  a  great  fraud  if  I  am  in  the 
wrong." 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — "  I  cannot  allow  you  to  proceed  in  that 
line  of  argument." 

CosTELLO — "  I  will  take  up  no  more  of  your  time.  If  I  am  still  a 
British  subject,  America  is  guilty." 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron--"  I  cannot  allow  you  to  refer  either  to  the 
American  people,  or  to  the  American  government." 

CosTELLO — "  Would  you  allow  me  to  state  they  enticed  me  from 
my  allegiance  to  England;  therefore  she  (America)  is  guilty  of  high 
treason  ?" 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — "  We  cannot  allow  you  to  speak  on  that 
subject." 

CosTELLO — ''  I  will  conclude,  then.  I  have  nothing  to  say  further 
than  to  thank  your  lordships  for  the  latitude  you  have  given  me  in 
these  few  remarks,  and  also  to  thank  your  lordships  for  your  kindness 
during  my  trial.  I  know  you  have  done  me  every  justice;  you  did 
not  strain  the  law  against  me;  you  did  everything  that  was  consistent 
with  your  duty  to  do,  and  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  there.  I 
must  again  thank  my  learned  and  able  counsel  for  the  able,  zealous, 
and  eloquent  manner  in  which  they  defended  me.  I  am  at  a  loss  for 
words  to  express  the  gratitude  I  owe  to  each  and  every  one  of  those 
gentlemen  who  have  so  ably  conducted  my  case.  Now,  my  lords,  I 
will  receive  that  sentence  which  is  impending.  I  am  prepared  for  the 
worst.  I  am  prepared  to  be  torn  from  my  friends,  from  my  lelations, 
from  my  home.  I  am  prepared  to  spend  the  bloom  of  my  youth  in  a 
tomb  more  dark  and  horrible  than  the  tomb  wherein  the  dead  rest 


312 


THE  DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD, 


But  there  is  one  consolation  that  I  will  bring  into  exile,  if  I  may  so 
call  that  house  of  misery — a  clear  conscience,  a  heart  whose  still,  small 
voice  tells  me  that  I  have  done  no  wrong  to  upbraid  myself  with. 
This  is  the  consolation  that  I  have — that  my  conscience  is  clear.  1 
know  it  appears  somewhat  egotistical  for  me  to  speak  thus,  but  it  is  a 
source  of  consolation  for  me  that  I  have  nothing  to  upbraid  myself 
with,  and  I  will  now  say  in  conclusion,  that  if  my  sufferings  can 
ameliorate  the  wrongs  or  the  sufferings  of  Ireland,  I  am  willing  to  be 
offered  up  as  a  sacrifice  for  the  good  of  old  Erin. 


GENERAL  W.  HALPIN. 

T  the  same  Commission,  before  the  same  judges  who 
had  tried  the  cases  of  Colonel  Warren  and  Augustint 
E.  Costello,  General  William  Halpin  was  put  on  his 
trial  for  treason-felony.  It  was  alleged  that  he  was 
one  of  the  military  officers  of  the  Fenian  organiza- 
tion, and  had  been  appointed  to  take  command,  in 
the  Dublin  district,  in  the  rising  which  had  taken  place  on  the 
5th  of  March  ;  and  this  it  was  sought  to  prove  by  the  evidence 
of  the  informers,  Massy,  Corydon,  Dcvany,  and  others. 

General  Halpin  employed  no  counsel,  and  undertook  the  con^ 
duct  of  his  case  himself.  The  considerations  that  had  induced 
him  to  take  this  course  he  thus  explained  to  the  jury: — 

"  1'wo  reasons  operated  on  my  mind,  and  induced  me  to  forego  the 
advantage  I  would  derive  from  having  some  of  the  able  and  learned 
counsel  that  plead  at  this  bar.  The  first  reason  is,  that  if  you,  gen- 
tlemen, are  a  jury  selected  by  the  crown,  as  juries  are  known  to  be 
selected  heretofore  in  political  cases — if  you  are,  in  fact,  a  jury 
selected  with  the  express  purpose  of  finding  a  verdict  for  the  crown 
— then,  gentlemen,  all  the  talent  and  ability  that  I  could  employ 
would  avail  me  nothing.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  by  any  chance  the 
Attorney- General  permitted  honest  men  to  find  their  way  into  the 
box,  then,  gentlemen,  lawyers  were  equally  unnecessary  for  me." 

Not  an  inaccurate  view  of  the  case,  perhaps ;  the  experience 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


313 


of  the  Fenian  trials,  from  first  to  last,  certainly  goes  to  support 
it. 

The  General  set  about  his  work  of  defending  himself  with 
infinite  coolness  and  self-possession.  He  was  supplied  with  a 
chair,  a  small  table,  and  writing  materials  in  the  dock.  When 
he  had  any  notes  to  make,  he  sat  down,  cleaned  and  adjusted 
his  spectacles,  and  wrote  out  what  he  wanted.  When  he 
wished  to  cross-examine  a  witness,  he  removed  his  glasses, 
came  to  the  front  of  the  dock,  and  put  his  questions  steadily 
and  quietly,  without  a  trace  of  excitement  in  his  manner,  but 
always  with  a  close  application  to  the  subject  in  hand.  One 
could  almost  refuse  to  believe,  while  listening  to  him,  that  he 
had  not  been  educated  and  trained  for  the  bar;  and,  undoubt- 
edly, many  of  those  who  wear  wigs  and  gowns  in  her  Majesty's 
courts  are  far  from  exhibiting  the  same  degree  of  aptitude  for 
the  profession.  But  it  was  in  his  address  to  the  jury  that  the 
remarkable  talents  of  the  man  were  most  brilliantly  revealed. 
It  was  an  extraordinary  piece  of  argument  and  eloquence,  sea* 
soned  occasionally  with  much  quiet  humor,  and  enriched  with 
many  passages  that  showed  a  high  and  courageous  spirit.  His 
scathing  denunciations  of  the  system  of  brutality  practised  to- 
wards the  political  prisoners  in  Kilmainham  gaol,  and  his  pic- 
ture of  Mr.  Governor  Price  as  **  the  old  Gorilla,"  will  long  be 
remembered.     One  portion  of  his  remarks  ran  as  follows: — 

"  The  whole  conduct  of  the  crown  since  my  arrest  has  been  sik  h 
as  to  warrant  me  in  asserting  that  I  have  been  treated  more  like  a 
beast  of  prey  than  a  human  being.  If  I  had  been  i)erniilted  to  ex- 
amine witnesses,  I  would  have  shown  them  how  the  case  had  been 
got  up  by  the  crown.  I  would  have  shown  them  how  the  Crown- 
Solicitor,  the  gaolers,  the  head-gaoler,  and  the  dei)iily-gao]er  of  Kilmain- 
ham, and  the  Protestant  chaplain  of  that  inslitiilion,  had  gone  in,  day 
and  night,  to  all  the  witnesses — to  the  cells  of  the  prisoners — with  a 
bribe  in  one  hand,  and  a  halter  in  the  other.  I  would  have  shown 
how  political  cases  were  got  up  by  the  crown  in  Ireland.  1  would 
have  shown  how  there  existed,  under  the  authority  of  the  Castle,  a 
triumvirate  of  the  basest  wretches  that  ever  conspired  to  take  away 
the  lives  and  liberties  of  men.  One  of  these  represented  the  law, 
another  the  gibbet  in  front  of  the  gaol,  and  another  was  supposed  to 
represent  tb<e  Church  militant." 


^I^  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 

Here  the  Chief  Baron  interposed;  but  the  prisoner  seen 
after  reverted  to  the  subject,  and  said  that  every  opportunity 
was  taken  in  that  gaol  to  wrong  and  torture  the  men  incarcer- 
ated there  on  political  charges.  Every  petty  breach  of  dis- 
cipline was  availed  of  to  punish  them,  by  sending  them  down 
to  work  the  crank,  and  reducing  their  scanty  rations.  For  the 
crime  of  not  saluting  Mr.  Governor  Price,  they  were  placed 
upon  a  dietary  of  seven  ounces  of  what  was  called  brown-bread 
and  a  pint  of  Anna  Liffey,  in  the  twenty-four  hours.  Brown, 
indeed,  the  article  was,  but  whether  it  deserved  the  name  of 
bread,  was  quite  another  question.  The  turf-mould  taken  from 
the  bog  of  Allen  was  the  nearest  resemblance  to  it  that  he 
could  think  of.  For  his  own  part,  he  did  not  mean  to  com- 
plain of  his  rations — he  could  take  either  rough  or  smooth  as 
well  as  most  men;  but  what  he  would  complain  of,  was  the 
system  of  petty  insults  and  indignities  offered  by  Mr.  Price 
and  his  warders  to  men  of  finer  feelings  than  their  own,  and 
whom  they  knew  to  be  their  superiors.  He  concluded  his 
address  in  the  following  terms  : — 

"  I  ask  you  if  I  have  not  thoroughly  and  sufficiently  explained  away 
the  terror,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  of  these  papers,  which  were  taken 
from  walls  and  other  places,  to  be  brought  against  me  here.  I  ask 
you,  gentlemen,  as  reasonable  men,  if  there  be  a  shadow  of  a  case 
against  me  ?  I  ask  you  if  I  have  been  connected  by  an  untainted  wit- 
ness with  ai\y  act,  in  America  or  Ireland,  that  would  warrant  you  in 
deciding  that  I  was  guilty  of  the  charge  with  which  I  stand  accused  ? 
Is  there  one  single  overt  act  proved  against  me;  or  have  I  violated 
any  law  for  the  violation  of  which  I  can  be  made  amenable  in  this 
court  ?  I  ask  you  if,  in  these  letters  which  have  been  brought  up 
against  me — one  found  in  Thomas  Street,  another  in  the  pocket  of  a 
fellow-prisoner — there  is  anything  that  can  affect  me  ?  Recollect, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  that  I  speak  to  vou  now  as  men  imbued  with  a 
spirit  of  justice.  I  speak  to  you,  gentlemen,  believing  that  you  are 
honest,  recognizing  your  intelligence,  and  confident  that  you  will  give 
in  a  verdict  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  your  conscience.  If 
you  are  the  jury  that  the  Attorney-General  hopes  you  are,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  I  am  wasting  time  in  speaking  to  you.  If  you  are,  gentle- 
tlemen,  that  jury  which  the  Attorney-General  hopes  to  make  the  step- 
ping-stone to  the  bench — for,  gentlemen,  I  do  not  accuse  the  Attor- 
ney-General of  wishing  to  prosecute  rae  for  the  purpose  of  having  me 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD. 


315 


{)unished;  I  believe  he  is  above  any  paltry  consideration  of  that  sort 
• — but,  gentlemen,  all  men  are  influenced  by  one  motive  or  another, 
and  the  Attorney-General,  though  he  is  the  first  law  officer  of  the 
crown  in  Ireland,  is  human  like  ourselves;  he  is  not  above  all  human 
frailty,  but  like  other  men,  doubtless,  likes  office,  and  likes  the 
emoluments  which  office  brings.  But,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  it  will 
be  your  fault  if  you  make  your  shoulders  the  stepping-stone  for  the 
Attorney-General  to  spring  upon  the  bench.  I  say  these  words  to 
you  in  sober,  solemn  earnestness.  You  are  now  trying  a  man  who  has 
lived  all  his  lifetime  in  a  country  were  freedom  is  venerated  and 
adored.  You  may  believe,  gentlemen,  that  you  have  the  speech  of 
freedom  here;  but  I  claim,  gentlemen,  that  the  real  spirit  of  freedom 
has  fled  these  shores  many  a  century  ago — has  sped  across  the 
Atlantic,  and  perched  upon  American  soil;  and,  gentlemen,  it  ought 
to  be  your  wish  and  desire — as  I  am  sure  it  is,  for  I  am  unwilling  to 
believe  that  you  are  the  men  the  Attorney-General  deems  you  to  be 
- — to  do  me  justice,  and  to  prove  that  Dublin  juries  do  not  on  all 
occasions  bring  in  a  verdict  at  the  dictation  of  the  crown. 

"  Gentlemen,  the  principle  of  freedom  is  at  stake.  Every  man  that 
is  born  unto  this  world  has  a  right  to  freedom,  unless  he  forfeits  that 
right  by  his  own  misdemeanor.  Perhaps  you  have  read  the  Declara- 
tion of  American  Independence.  In  that  declaration,  drawn  up  by 
one  Thomas  Jefferson,  it  is  stated  that  every  man  born  into  this  world 
is  born  free  and  equal  ;  that  he  has  the  right — the  inalienable  right — 
to  live  in  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  These  are  the  cardinal 
principles  of  liberty.  I  claim  these  rights,  unless  I  have  forfeited 
them  by  my  own  misconduct.  I  claim  there  is  not  one  particle,  one 
scintilla,  of  evidence  to  warrant  you  in  finding  a  verdict  for  the  crown. 
I  have  not  conspired  with  General  Roberts,  or  any  of  these  other  gen- 
erals. There  is  no  evidence  to  show  you  anything  about  any  such 
conspiracy,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  With  these  facts  before  you,  I 
ask  you,  as  reasonable  men,  is  there  one  particle  of  evidence  to  show 
that  I  am  guilty  of  the  charges  preferred  against  me  ?  I  shall  simply 
conclude  by  repeating  the  words  with  which  I  commenced — that  I 
leave  it  between  your  conscience  and  your  God  to  find  a  verdict  ac- 
cording to  the  evidence  and  the  truth.  I  leave  it  to  you  in  the  name 
of  that  sacred  justice  which  we  all  profess  to  venerate,  and  I  ask  you 
not  to  allow  your  passion  or  your  prejudices  to  cloud  your  judgments — 
not  to  allow  the  country  to  say  that  the  Dublin  juries  are  in  the 
breeches-pocket  of  the  Attorney-General.  Never  let  it  be  said  that  a 
prisoner,  forced  into  your  country,  carried  off  from  the  steamer  which 
was  bearing  him  away  from  yours  to  his  own,  has  been  found  guilty 
on  the  evidence  of  perjured  witnesses.  Never  let  the  world  say  that 
a  Dublin  jury  are  not  as  honest  as  any  other.  Do  not  allow  those 
acrimonious  feelings,  which  unfortunately  in  this  country  difference  of 
sect  engenders,  to  have  anything  to  do  with  your  verdict.     A«  far  as  I 


3l6  THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD, 

am  concerned,  I  ask  no  favor  from  you.  I  ask  no  favor  from  any 
man  that  lives  in  the  world.  I  have  always,  gentlemen,  adhered  to 
my  own  principles,  and  will  do  so  while  I  am  able.  If  you  consent  to 
send  me  for  my  life  to  a  penitentiary,  you  will  not  make  the  slightest 
impression  on  me.  I  am  pleading  for  life  and  liberty — I  am  pleading 
in  the  cause  of  justice,  and  I  leave  it  in  your  hands.  I  demand  that 
you  should  exercise  your  best  judgment  to  render  a  verdict  before 
the  Omnipotent  Creator  of  the  universe,  who  is  looking  into  your 
hearts  as  well  as  mine — to  render  a  verdict  for  which  you  will  not  be 
sorry — to  render  a  verdict  that  your  countrymen  will  cheer — to  render 
a  verdict  that  will  make  you  venerated  and  admired  in  the  land  of 
your  birth  while  you  live  on  this  earth." 

The  jury,  however,  found,  not  for  the  prisoner,  but  for  the 
crown. 

When  General  Halpin  took  his  place  in  the  dock  with  his 
fellow  *' convicts,"  Colonel  Warren  and  Augustine  E.  Costello, 
to  receive  his  sentence,  he  appeared  calm  and  unimpassioned 
as  ever.  The  question  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  on 
him  having  been  put : — 

The  prisoner  said  that  before  he  spoke  to  the  question  put  him  by 
the  clerk  of  the  crown  he  wished  to  say  a  few  words  on  another  topic. 
The  day  before  yesterday  he  was  handed,  by  the  governor  of  Kilmain- 
ham,  a  letter  which  had  come  from  America,  and  enclosed  a  draft. 
The  draft  the  governor  refused  to  give  up,  and  also  refused  to  state 
what  disposition  he  intended  to  make  of  it.  The  deputy  governor 
had  other  moneys  of  his,  and  he  requested  that  those,  as  well  as  the 
draft,  should  be  restored  to  him. 

The  Attorney-General,  in  an  undertone,  having  addressed  some  ob- 
servations to  the  Bench — 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron  said  that  the  prisoner,  having  been  convict- 
ed of  felony,  his  property  was  at  the  disposal  of  the  authorities,  and 
that  any  representation  he  had  to  make  on  the  subject  should  be 
made  to  the  government. 

Halpin  said  he  wished  that  the  money  might  be  transferred  to  the 
governor  of  whatever  gaol  he  was  to  be  imprisoned  in,  so  that  he 
might  have  the  use  of  it  to  purchase  necessaries,  should  he  require 
them. 

The  Lord  Chief  Baron — "  If  you  desire  to  make  any  representation  it 
must  be  through  the  government." 

Prisoner — '*  I  don't  wish  to  make  any  representation  to  the  govern- 
ment on  the  subject.  I  will  permit  the  government  to  add  robbery  to 
perjury." 


TME  DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD,  31H 

The  prisoner,  in  reply  to  a  question  asked  by  the  clerk  of 
the  crown,  said  that  justice  had  not  been  dealt  out  to  him  as 
he  thought  it  might  have  been.  He  had  been  prevented  by 
the  crown  from  getting  witnesses  for  his  defence,  and  from 
seeing  his  witnesses,  while  the  crown  had  taken  four  months 
to  get  their  witnesses  properly  trained,  and  to  ransack  all  the 
Orange  lodges  of  Dublin  for  jurors.  He  complained  of  the 
rules  of  the  gaol,  and  of  the  law  that  permitted  them  to  be  en- 
forced, and  said : — 


"I  deny  the  jurisdiction  of  this  court,  in  common  with  Colonel  War- 
ren. I  owe  no  allegiance  to  this  country,  and  were  I  a  free  man  to- 
morrow I  would  sooner  swear  allegiance  to  the  King  of  Abyssinia  than 
give  half-an-hour's  allegiance  to  the  government  of  this  country — a 
government  that  has  blasted  the  hopes  of  half  the  world,  and  disgusted 
it  all.  I  am  not,  I  suppose,  permitted  to  speak  of  the  verdict  given 
against  me  by  the  jury.  It  was  entirely  unnecessary  for  the  crown 
to  produce  one  single  witness  against  me.  The  jury  had  their  lesson 
before  they  came  to  the  box." 

The  Chief  Baron — "  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  allow  you  to  proceed 
with  this  line  of  observation." 

Halpin — ''  I  wish  to  simply  say  that  the  jury  exhibited  an  extreme 
anxiety  to  find  a  verdict  against  me,  before  I  had  even  said  a  word  to 
them.  I  saw  their  anxiety.  I  knew  from  the  moment  they  were  put 
into  the  box,  that  a  verdict  of  guilty  would  be  returned  against  me. 
I  knew  it  from  looking  at  the  conduct  of  the  jury  in  the  box — I  knew 
it  from  the  way  the  jury  was  impanelled,  and  I  knew  the  Attorney- 
General  relied  upon  the  jury  for  a  verdict  when  he  set  three  citizens 
aside.  I  therefore  conclude,  and  rightly,  that  all  the  eloquent  talent 
that  ever  pleaded  at  this  bar  would  be  entirely  useless  to  me  whilst 
such  a  jury  was  in  the  box.  The  crown,  in  order  to  give  some  color 
to  the  proceedings,  thought  proper  to  produce  several  witnesses 
against  me.  Eleven  witnesses  were  examined,  and  out  of  these  no 
less  than  nine  committed  absolute,  diabolical,  and  egregious  perjury." 

The  Chief  Baron — *'  You  are  transcending  the  limit  within  which  the 
law  confines  you." 

Halpin — "  I  do  not  blame  you  for  enforcing  the  law  as  it  stands. 
By  no  means.  I  have  to  thank  your  lordship  for  your  kindness  during 
the  progress  of  my  trial.  I  do  not  blame  you,  because  the  law  stands 
as  it  does,  but  what  I  say  is — that  the  law  is  absurd  in  taking  me  and 
trying  me  as  a  British  subject  whilst  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  without  a  particle  of  evidence  to  show  that  I  was  born  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  British  crown.     I   must   say  that  I   look  to 


3i8  THE  DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD, 

another  place,  another  government,  and  another  people,  to  see  that 
justice  shall  be  done  me." 

The  Chief  Baron — ''Here  again  you  are  transcending  the  limits 
which  the  law  allows.  We  could  not  deal  with  any  consideration  con- 
nected with  what  any  government  will  do." 

Halpin — "  I  am  aware  that  it  is  not  within  your  province  to  deal  with 
the  acts  of  another  government,  but  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  this — 
that  the  outrages  offered  me,  and  those  gentlemen  who  claim,  like  me, 
to  be  citizens  of  the  United  States,  will  be  gladly  submitted  to,  if  they 
only  have  the  effect  of  making  the  sword  of  Brother  Jonathan 
spring  from  its  scabbard." 

The  Chief  Baron — ''  I  cannot  suffer  you  to  proceed  with  this  line  of 
observation.  I  cannot  suffer  to  make  this  a  place  of  appeal  to  per- 
sons in  this  country  or  in  America." 

Halpin — "I  am  not  making  an  appeal  to  any  man.  Although  I  was 
found  guilty  by  a  jury  of   this  court,  I  deem  my  conduct  above  re-^ 
proach.     I  know  how  I  have  been  convicted,  and  will  still  assert  that 
the  first  gun  fired  in  anger  between  this  country  and  America  will  be 
a  knell  of  comfort  to  my  ears." 

The  Chief  Baron — "I  will  be  compelled  to  remove  you  from  where 
you  are  now  if  you  proceed  with  this  line  of  observation." 

Halpin — "  Well,  then,  if  I  am  not  permitted  to  say  that — " 

The  Chief  Baron — "You  are  not  permitted  to  make  any  observation 
upon  what  any  government  of  any  country  may  do." 

Halpin — I  think  the  reference  has  not  anything  to  do  with  any 
government  or  any  country.  It  refers  to  a  fact  that  will  come  to 
pass,  and  when  I  shall  hear  the  death-knell  of  this  infamous  govern- 
ment— " 

The  Chief  Baron — "I  will  not  allow  you  to  proceed." 

Halpin — "  Well,  I  cannot  be  prevented  thinking  it.  Now,  I  will  re- 
fer to  a  subject  which  I  maybe  allowed  to  speak  upon.  You  will  recol- 
lect that  I  had  addressed  a  letter  to  Mr.  Price,  asking  him  to  furnish  me, 
at  my  expense,  with  two  of  the  morning  papers — the  Irish  Times  and 
Freemajis  Journal.  I  believe  they  are  both  loyal  papers  ;  at  least  they 
claim  to  be  loyal,  and  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  of  the  admitted  char- 
acter of  loyalty  registered  in  the  purHeus  of  Dublin  Castle.  The 
reason  why  I  wanted  these  papers  was,  that  I  believed  that  the  best 
reports  of  the  trial  since  the  opening  of  the  Commission  would 
be  found  in  them.  I  said  to  Mr.  Price,  that  it  was  important 
that  I  should  see  all  the  evidence  given  by  the  informers  who  were  to 
be  produced  against  me,  to  enable  me  to  make  up  my  defence.  I 
was  denied,  even  at  my  own  expense,  to  be  furnished  with  these  papers, 
and  that  I  complain  of  as  a  wanton  outrage.  Perhaps  Mr.  Price  was 
governed  by  some  rule  of  Kilmainham .  for  it  appears  that  the  rules  of 
Kilmainham  are  often  as  far  outside  the  law  of  the  country  as  I  have 
been  said  to  be  by  the  Attorney -General.     In  fact,  Mr.  Price  stated, 


THE  DOCK  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD. 


319 


when  giving  his  testimony,  that  he  was  not  governed  by  any  law  or 
rule,  but  that  he  was  governed  solely  and  entirely  by  his  own  imperial 
will." 

The  Chief  Baron — "  That  I  cannot  allow  to  be  said  without  at  once 
setting  it  right.  Mr.  Price  said  no  such  thing.  He  said  that  with  re- 
spect to  one  particular  matter — namely,  the  reading  of  prisoners'  cor- 
respondence, he  was  bound  to  exercise  his  own  discretion  as  to  what 
he  would  send  out  of  the  gaol,  and  what  he  would  hold.  This  is  the 
only  matter  in  which  Mr.  Price  said  he  would  exercise  his  own  dis- 
cretion." 

Prisoner — "  I  think,  my  lord,  you  will  allow  your  memory  to  go  back 
to  the  cross-examination  of  Mr.  Price,  and  you  will  find  that  when 
I  asked  him  by  what  authority  he  gave  the  letters  he  suppressed  into 
the  hands  of  the  crown  to  be  produced  here,  he  stated  he  had  no 
other  authority  than  his  own  will  for  so  doing." 

The  Chief  Baron — "  You  are  quite  right  with  respect  to  the  corres- 
pondence." 

Prisoner — "  I  say  he  violated  the  law  of  the  land  in  so  doing,  and  I 
claim  that  he  had  no  right  to  use  those  letters  written  by  me  in  my 
private  capacity  to  friends  in  America,  asking  for  advice  and  assist- 
ance, and  the  very  first  letter  he  read  was  a  letter  written  to  a  man 
named  Byrne.  That,  you  may  recollect,  was  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
Attorney-General — kept  by  him  for  four  months.  That  was  the  first  in- 
timation I  had  of  its  suppresssion,  or  of  its  production  here  by  the  crown. 
Now,  the  letter  was  addressed  to  a  friend  in  New  York,  asking  him  to 
look  after  my  trunk,  which  had  been  taken  away  without  my  consent 
by  the  captain  of  the  vessel  in  which  I  was  arrested.  Mr.  Price 
never  told  me  that  he  suppressed  that  letter,  and  I  was  three  months 
waiting  for  reply,  which,  of  course,  I  did  not  receive,  as  the  letter 
never  went.  Mr.  Price  suppressed  another  letter  yesterday.  It  was 
written  to  a  friend  of  mine  in  Washington,  in  relation  to  my  trial  and 
and  conviction,  and  asking  him  to  present  my  case  to  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  detailing  the  case  as  it  proceeded  in  this  court. 
Mr.  Price  thought  proper  to  suppress  that  letter,  and  I  ask  that  he  be 
compelled  to  produce  it,  so  that,  if  your  lordships  think  fit,  it  may  be 
read  in  court." 

The  Chief  Baron — "  I  cannot  do  that.  I  cannot  have  a  letter  of 
that  character  read  in  open  court." 

Halpin — ''  Am  I  entitled  to  get  the  letter  to  have  it  destroyed,  or 
is  Price  to  have  it,  to  do  with  it  as  he  pleases?" 

The  Chief  Baron — ''  I  can  make  no  order  in  the  matter." 

Halpin — "  Then  Price  is  something  like  Robinson  Crusoe—* 
*  Monarch  of  all  he  surveys;'  monarch  of  Kilmainham;  and  when  I 
ask  if  he  is  to  be  controlled,  I  find  there  is  no  law  to  govern  him." 

The  Chief  Baron — "  You  have  now  no  property  in  these  letters, 
being  a  convict" 


J20 


THE  DOCK  AND  TEE  SCAFFOLD. 


The  Prisoner — "I  will  very  soon  be  told  I  have  no  property  in 
myself.  I  claim  to  have  been  arrested  on  the  high  seas,  and  there 
was  then  no  case  against  me,  and  the  crown  had  to  wait  four  months 
to  pick  up  papers  and  get  men  from  Stepaside,  and  arrange  plans 
between  Mr.  Price  and  his  warders  to  fill  up  any  gap  that  might  be 
wanted.  I  was  arrested  out  of  the  habeas  corpus  jurisdiction,  with- 
out authority,  and  detained  four  months  in  gaol  until  the  crown 
could  trump  up  a  case  against  me.  Have  I  not  a  right  to  complain 
that  I  should  be  consigned  to  a  dungeon  for  life  in  consequence  of  a 
trumped-up  case?  I  am  satisfied  that  your  lordships  have  stated 
the  case  as  it  stands,  but  I  am  not  satisfied  that  I  have  been 
convicted  under  any  law.  I  have  been  four  months  in  durance  vile, 
and  vile  durance  it  has  been.  The  preachers  tell  us  that  hell  is  a 
very  bad  place,  and  the  devil  a  very  bad  boy,  but  he  could  not  hold  a 
candle  to  old  Price." 

The  Chief  Baron — *'  You  are  trespassing  very  much  upon  a  very 
large  indulgence,  I  must  adopt  a  very  decisive  course  if  you  per- 
severe." 

Halpin  {laughing) — "Well,  my  lord,  I  will  say  no  more  about  the 
old  gorilla.  The  crown  officers  have  laid  much  stress  upon  the  fact 
that  I  have  travelled  under  different  names,  and  thertfore  I  was 
guilty  of  a  great  crime.  I  have  precedent  for  it,  when  I  read  in  the 
papers  that  some  continental  monarchs  travel  under  an  assumed 
name,  and  I  hear  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  does  so  also  when  he  thinks 
proper  to  go  to  the  London  brothels." 

At  this  point  the  court  cut  short  his  address,  and  Chief  Baron 
Pigot  proceeded  to  pass  sentence  on  the  three  prisoners. 

After  some  share  of  preliminary  remarks,  the  Chief  Baron 
announced  the  sentence  of  the  court.  It  was,  for  John  Warren, 
fifteen  years'  penal  servitude ;  William  Halpin,  fifteen  years* 
penal  servitude  ;  Augustine  E.  Costello,  twelve  years*  penal 
servitude. 

The  prisoners  heard  the  announcement  without  manifesting 
any  emotion.  General  Halpin  remarked  that  he  would  take 
fifteen  years  more  any  day  for  Ireland.  Colonel  Warren  in- 
formed the  court  that  he  did  not  think  a  lease  of  the  British 
Empire  worth  thirty-seven-and-a-half  cents  ;  and  then  all  three, 
followed  by  d.  posse  of  warders,  disappeared  from  the  dock. 

And  thus  were  three  men  of  education  and  ability  added 
to  the  hundreds  who  are  now  rotting  their  lives  away  in  British 
dungeons,  because  of  the  love  they  bore  to  their  country,  and 


THE  DOCK  AND    THE   SCAFFOLD,  32 1 

their  hatred  of  the  misrule  which  makes  her  the  most  afflicted 
and  miserable  land  on  earth.  It  is  hard  for  Ireland  to  see  such 
men  stricken  down  and  torn  from  her  upon  such  an  accusation; 
yet,  looking  at  the  noble  bearing  of  that  long  list  of  devoted 
men  who,  confronted  with  the  worst  terrors  to  which  their  ene- 
mies could  subject  them,  she  has  something  which  may  well 
cause  the  light  of  pride  to  glisten  in  her  eyes,  even  while  the 
tears  of  love  and  pity  are  falling  from  them.  And  we  would 
say  to  her,  in  the  noble  words  of  a  French  writer,  one  of  the 
many  generous-hearted  foreigners,  whose  affectionate  admira- 
tion has  been  won  by  her  sufferings  and  her  constancy,  the  Rev. 
Adolphe  Perraud,  priest  of  the  Oratory,  Paris  : — 

''Take  heart!  you  ■  trials  will  not  last  forever;  the  works  of 
iniquity  are  passing  and  perishable:  '  Vidi  impiuni  super  exaU 
tamnni  et  clevatiim  ciciit  ccdros  Libani,  et  ecce  non  erat!'  (Ps. 
xxxvi).  Patience,  then,  even  still !  Do  not  imagine  that  you 
are  forsaken  ;  God  forsakes  not  those  that  believe  in  Him. 
The  day  of  retribution  will  come — to  teach  men  that  no  strug- 
gle against  right  is  rightful,  that  probation  is  not  abandonment ; 
that  God  and  conscience  have  unimagined  resources  against  bru- 
tal spoliation  and  the  triumphs  of  injustice  ;  and  that  if  men 
are  often  immoral  in  their  designs  and  actions,  there  is  still  in 
the  general  course  of  history  a  sovereign  morality,  and  judgment, 
the  forerunners  of  the  infallible  judgment  of  God." 


PA  R  T  III 


THE 


WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN  r 


OR, 


THE  PROSECUTED  FUNERAL  PROCESSION. 


Let  the  echoes  fall  unbroken; 

Let  our  tears  in  silence  flow; 
For  each  word  thus  nobly  spoken, 

Let  us  yield  a  nation's  woe; 
Yet,  while  weeping,  sternly  keeping 

Wary  watch  upon  the  foe." 

Poem  in  the  "  Natiow." 


NEW  YORK: 
?r  i,  KENEDY  Excelsior  Catholic  Publishing  House,  5  Barclay  Strew. 


"THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN." 


PROSECUTED  FUNERAL  PROCESSION, 

HE  news  of  the  Manchester  executions  on  the  morn- 
ing of  Saturday,  23d  November,  1867,  feU  upon  Ire. 
land  with  sudden  and  dismal  disillusion. 

In  time  to  come,  when  the  generation  now  living 
shall  have  passed  away,  men  will  probably  find  it 
difficult  to  fully  realize  or  understand  the  state  of  stupor  and 
amazement  which  ensued  in  this  country  on  the  first  tidings  of 
that  event ;  seeing,  as  it  may  be  said,  that  the  victims  had  lain 
for  weeks  under  sentence  of  death,  to  be  executed  on  this  date. 
Yet,  surprise  indubitably  was  the  first  and  most  overpowering 
emotion  ;  for,  in  truth,  no  one  up  to  that  hour  had  really  credited 
that  England  would  take  the  lives  of  those  three  men  on  a 
verdict  already  publicly  admitted  and  proclaimed  to  have  been 
a  blunder.  Now,  however,  came  the  news  that  all  was  over — 
that  the  deed  was  done — and  soon  there  was  seen  such  an  up- 
heaving of  national  emotion  as  had  not  been  witnessed  in  Ire- 
land for  a  century.  The  public  conscience,  utterly  shocked, 
revolted  against  the  dreadful  act  perpetrated  in  the  outraged 
name  of  justice.  A  great  billow  of  grief  rose  and  surged  from 
end  to  end  of  the  land.  Political  distinctions  disappeared  or 
were  forgotten.  The  Manchester  Victims— the  Manchester 
Martyrs,  they  were  already  called — belonged  to  the  Fenian  or- 
ganization ;  a  conspiracy  which  the  wisest  and  truest  patriots 
of  Ireland  had  condemned  and  resisted  ;  yet  men  who  had  been 
prominent  in  withstanding,  on  national  grounds,  that  hopeless 
and  disastrous  scheme — priests  and  laymen — were  now  amongst 


328  THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

the  foremost  and  the  boldest  in  denouncing  at  every  peril  the 
savage  act  of  vengeance  perpetrated  at  Manchester.  The 
Catholic  clergy  were  the  first  to  give  articulate  expression  to 
the  national  emotion.  The  executions  took  place  on  Saturday; 
before  night  the  telegraph  had  spread  the  news  through  the 
island  ;  and  on  the  next  morning,  being  Sunday,  from  a  thou- 
sand altars  the  sad  event  was  announced  to  the  assembled 
worshippers,  and  prayers  were  publicly  offered  for  the  souls  of 
the  victims.  When  the  news  was  announced,  a  moan  of  sorrow- 
ful surprise  burst  from  the  congregation,  followed  by  the  wail- 
ing and  sobbing  of  women ;  and  when  the  priest,  his  own  voice 
broken  with  emotion,  asked  all  to  join  with  him  in  praying  the 
Merciful,  God  to  grant  those  young  victims  a  place  beside  His 
throne,  the  assemblage  with  one  voice  responded,  praying  and 
weeping  aloud ! 

The  manner  in  which  the  national  feeling  was  demonstrated 
on  this  occasion  was  one  peculiarly  characteristic  of  a  nation  in 
which  the  sentiments  of  religion  and  patriotism  are  so  closely 
blended.  No  stormy '*  indignation  meetings"  were  held;  no 
tumult,  no  violence,  no  cries  for  vengeance  arose.  In  all  pro- 
bability— nay,  to  a  certainty — all  this  would  have  happened, 
and  these  ebullitions  of  popular  passion  would  have  been 
heard  had  the  victims  not  passed  into  eternity.  But  now, 
they  were  gone  where  prayer  alone  could  follow ;  and  in  the 
presence  of  this  solemn  fact  the  religious  sentiment  overbore 
all  others  with  the  Irish  people.  Cries  of  anger,  imprecations, 
and  threats  of  vengeance,  could  not  avail  the  dead;  but 
happily  religion  gave  a  vent  to  the  pent-up  feelings  of  the 
living.  By  prayer  and  mourning  they  could  at  once,  most 
fitly  and  most  successfully,  demonstrate  their  horror  of  the 
guilty  deed,  and  their  sympathy  with  the  innocent  victims. 

Requiem  Masses  forthwith  were  announced  and  celebrated 
in  several  churches  ;  and  were  attended  by  crowds  everywhere 
too  vast  for  the  sacred  edifices  to  contain.  The  churches  in 
several  instances  were  draped  with  black,  and  the  ceremonies 
conducted  with   more   than    ordinary   solemnity.       In    every 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


329 


case,  however,  the  authorities  of  the  Catholic  Church  were 
careful  to  ensure  that  the  sacred  functions  were  sought  and  at- 
tended for  spiritual  considerations,  not  used  merely  for  illegiti- 
mate political  purposes;  and  wherever  it  was  apprehended  that 
the  holy  rites  were  in  danger  of  such  use,  the  Masses  were  said 
privately. 

And  soon  public  feeling  found  yet  another  vent ;  a  mode  of 
manifesting  itself  scarcely  less  edifying  than  the  Requiem 
Masses  ;  namely,  funeral  processions.  The  brutal  vengeance 
of  the  law  consigned  the  bodies  of  Allen,  Larkin,  and  O'Brien 
to  dishonored  graves  ;  and  forbade  the  presence  of  sympathiz- 
ing friend  or  sorrowing  relative  who  might  drop  a  tear  above 
their  mutilated  remains.  Their  countrymen  now,  however, 
determined  that  ample  atonement  should  be  made  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  dead  for  this  denial  of  the  decencies  of  sepulture 
On  Sunday,  ist  December,  in  Cork,  Manchester,  Mitchelstown, 
Middleton,  Limerick,  and  Skibbereen,  funeral  processions,  at 
which  thousands  of  persons  attended,  were  held ;  that  in  Cork 
being  admittedly  the  most  imposing,  not  only  in  point  of  num- 
bers, but  in  the  character  of  the  demonstration,  and  the  de- 
meanor of  the  people. 

For  more  than  twenty  years  Cork  city  has  held  an  advanced 
position  in  the  Irish  national  struggle.  In  truth,  it  has  been 
one  of  the  great  strongholds  of  the  national  cause  since  1848, 
Nowhere  else  did  the  national  spirit  keep  its  hold  so  tenaciously 
and  so  extensively  amidst  the  people.  In  1848,  Cork  city  con- 
tained probably  the  most  formidable  organization  in  the  coun- 
try;  formidable,  not  merely  in  numbers,  but  in  the  superior  in- 
telligence, earnestness,  and  determination  of  the  men  ;  and 
even  in  the  Fenian  conspiracy,  it  is  unquestionable  that  the 
southern  capital  contributed  to  that  movement  men — chiefly 
belonging  to  the  mercantile  and  commercial  classes — who,  in 
personal  worth  and  standing,  as  well  as  in  courage,  intelligence, 
and  patriotism,  were  the  flower  of  the  organization.  Finally, 
it  must  be  said,  that  it  was  Cork  city,  by  its  funeral  demon- 
stration of    the    1st   December,    that   struck  the   first   great 


--Q  THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

blow  at  the  Manchester  verdict,  and  set  ail  Ireland  in  motion.-* 
Meanwhile,  the  Irish  capital  had  moved,  and  was  organizing 
a  demonstration  destined  to  surpass  all  that  had  yet  been  wit- 
nessed. Early  in  the  second  week  of  December,  a  committee 
was  formed  for  the  purpose  of  organizing  a  funeral  procession 
in  Dublin,  worthy  of  the  national  metropolis.  Dublin  would 
have  come  forward  sooner,  but  the  question  of  the  legality  of 
the  processions  that  were  announced  to  come  off  the  previous 
week  in  Cork  and  other  places,  had  been  the  subject  of  fierce 
discussion  in  the  government  press  ;  and  the  national  leaders 
were  determined  to  avoid  the  slightest  infringement  of  the 
law,  or  the  least  inroad  on  the  public  peace.  It  was  only  when, 
on  the  3d  of  December,  Lord  Derby,  the  Prime  Minister,  re- 
plying in  the  House  of  Lords  to  Lord  Dufferin,  declared  the 
opinion  of  the  crown  that  the  projected  processions  were  not 
illegal,  that  the  national  party  in  Dublin  decided  to  form  a 
committee  and  organize  a  procession.  The  following  were 
Lord  Derby's  words  : — 

"  He  could  assure  the  noble  lord  that  the  government  would  con- 
tinue to  carry  out  the  law  with  firmness  and  impartiality.  The  Party 
Processions  act,  however,  did  not  meet  the  case  of  the  funeral  pro- 
cessions, the  parties  engaged  in  them  having,  by  not  displaying  ban- 
ners or  other  emblems,  kept  within  the  law  as  far  as  his  information 
went."' 

Still  more  strong  assurance  was  contained  in  the  reply  of  the 
Irish  Chief  Secretary,  Lord  Mayo,  to  a  question  put  by  Sir  P. 


*  It  may  be  truly  said,  set  the  Irish  race  all  over  the  world  in  motion.  There  is  probably 
no  parallel  in  history  for  the  singiilar  circumstance  of  these  funeral  processions  being  held 
by  the  dispersed  Irish  in  lands  remote,  apart,  as  pole  from  pole — in  the  old  hemisphere  and 
in  the  new — in  Europe,  in  America,  in  Australia  ;  prosecutions  being  set  on  foot  by  the  Eng- 
lish government  to  punish  them  at  both  ends  of  the  world — in  Ireland  and  in  New  Zealand  ! 
In  Hokatika  the  Irish  settlers — most  patriotic  of  Ireland's  exiles — organized  a  highly  im- 
pressive funeral  demonstration.  The  government  seized  and  prosecuted  its  leaders,  the 
Rev.  Father  Larkin,  a  Catholic  clergyman,  and  Mr.  Wm.  Manning,  editor  of  the  Hokatika 
Celt.  A  jury,  terrified  by  Fenian  panic,  brought  them  in  "guilty,"  and  the  patriot  priest 
and  journalist  were  consigned  to  a  dungeon  for  the  crime  of  mourning  for  the  dead  38(1 
protesting  against  judicial  murder. 


TME  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


331 


O'Brien  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Lord  Mayo  publicly  an- 
nounced and  promised  that  if  any  new  opinion  as  to  the  legal- 
ity of  the  processions  should  be  arrived  at — that  is,  should  the 
crown  see  in  them  anything  of  illegality — due  and  timely  notice 
would  be  given  by  proclamation,  so  that  no  one  might  offend 
through  ignorance.     Here  are  his  words  : — 

"  It  is  the  wish  of  the  government  to  act  strictly  in  accordance 
with  the  law;  and  of  course  ample  notice  will  be  given  either  by  proclama' 
Hon  or  otherwise y 

The  Dublin  committee  thereupon  at  once  issued  the  follow- 
ing announcement,  by  placard  and  advertisement : — 

"GOD  SAVE  IRELAND! 

**  A  PUBLIC  FUNERAL  PROCESSION 

"  In  honor  of  the  Irish  Patriots 
Executed  at  Manchester,  23d  November, 
Will  take  place  in  Dublin, 
On  Sunday  next,  the  8th  inst. 


**The  procession  will  assemble  in  Beresford  place,  near  the  Custom 
House,  and  will  start  from  thence  at  the  hour  of  twelve 

o'clock  noon. 


**  No  flags,  banners,  or  party  emblems  will  be  allowed. 

"IRISHMEN, 
Assemble  in  your  thousands,  and  show  by  your  numbers  and  your 
orderly  demeanor  your  sympathy  with  the  fate  of  the 

executed  patriots. 

''IRISHWOMEN, 

You  are  requested  to  lend  the  dignity  of  your  presence  to  this  im- 
portant National  Demonstration. 

By  Order  of  the  Committee, 

"  John  Martin,  Chairman. 
"J.  C.  Waters,  ) 

**  James  Scanlan,     \    Hon.  Secretaries. 
"  J.  J.  Lalor,  ) 

**Donal  Sullivan,  Up.  Buckingham  Street, 

"  Treasurer." 


332 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


The  appearance  of  the  "  funeral  procession  placards'*  all 
over  the  city  on  Thursday,  5th  December,  increased  the  public 
excitement.  No  other  topic  was  discussed  in  any  place  of 
public  resort,  but  the  event  forthcoming  on  Sunday.  Th€i 
first  evidence  of  what  it  was  about  to  be,  was  the  appearance 
of  the  darpery  establishments  in  the  city  on  Saturday  morning; 
the  windows,  exteriorly  and  interiorly,  being  one  mass  of  crape 
and  green  ribbon  —  funeral  knots,  badges,  scarfs,  hat-bands, 
neckties,  etc.,  exposed  for  sale.  Before  noon  most  of  the  re- 
tail, and  several  of  the  wholesale  houses  had  their  entire  stock 
of  green  ribbon  and  crape  exhausted,  it  being  computed  that 
nearly  one  hundred  thousand  yards  had  been  sold  up  to  mid- 
night of  Saturday!  Meantime  the  committee  sat  en  pernia- 
nance^  zealously  pushing  their  arrangements  for  the  orderly  and 
successful  carrying  out  of  their  great  undertaking — appointing 
stewards,  marshals,  etc., — in  a  word,  completing  the  numerous 
details  on  the  perfection  of  which  it  greatly  depended  whether 
Sunday  was  to  witness  a  successful  demonstration,  or  a  scene  of 
disastrous  disorder.  On  this,  as  upon  every  occasion  when  a 
national  demonstration  was  to  be  organized,  the  trades  of 
Dublin,  Kingstown,  and  Dalkey,  exhibited  that  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism for  which  they  have  been  proverbial  in  our  generation. 
From  their  ranks  came  the  most  efficient  aids  in  every  depart- 
ment of  the  preparations.  On  Saturday  evening  the  carpenters, 
in  a  body,  immediately  after  their  day's  work  was  over,  instead 
of  seeking  home  and  rest,  refreshment,  or  recreation  after  their 
week  of  toil,  turned  into  the  Nation  office  machine  rooms, 
which  they  quickly  improvised  into  a  vast  workshop,  and  there 
as  volunteers,  labored  away  till  near  midnight,  manufacturing 
"  wands"  for  the  stewards  of  next  morning's  procession. 

Sunday,  8th  December,  1867,  dawned  through  watery  skies. 
From  shortly  after  day-break,  rain,  or  rather  half-melted  sleet, 
continued  to  fall;  and  many  persons  concluded  that  there 
would  be  no  attempt  to  hold  the  procession  under  such  inclem- 
ent weather.  This  circumstance  was,  no  doubt,  a  grievous 
discouragement,  or  rather  a  discomfort  and  an  inconvenience  ; 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN,  333 

but  SO  far  from  preventing  the  procession,  it  was  destined  to 
add  a  hundied-fold  to  the  significance  and  importance  of  the 
demonstration.  Had  the  day  been  fine,  tens  of  thousands  of 
persons  who  eventually  only  lined  the  streets,  wearing  the 
funeral  emblems,  would  have  marched  in  the  procession  as  they 
had  originally  intended  ;  but  hostile  critics  would  in  this  case 
have  said  that  the  fineness  of  the  day  and  the  excitement  of 
the  pageant  had  merely  caused  a  hundred  thousand  persons  to 
come  out  for  a  holiday.  Now,  however,  the  depth,  reality,  and 
intensity  of  the  popular  feeling  was  about  to  be  keenly  tested. 
The  subjoined  account  of  this  memorable  demonstration  is 
summarized  from  the  daily  papers  of  the  next  ensuing  pub- 
lication, the  report  of  the  Freeman  s  Journal  being  chiefly 
used : — 

As  early  as  ten  o'clock  crowds  began  to  gather  in  Beresford  place, 
and  in  an  hour  about  ten  thousand  men  were  present.  The  morning 
had  succeeded  to  the  hopeless  humidity  of  the  night,  and  the  drizzling 
rain  fell  with  almost  dispiteous  persistence.  The  early  trains  from 
Kingstown  and  Dalkey,  and  all  the  citerior  townlands,  brought  large 
numbers  into  Dublin  ;  and  Westland  row,  Brunswick,  D'Olier,  and 
Sackville  Streets,  streamed  with  masses  of  humanity.  A  great  number 
of  the  processionists  met  in  the  Earlsfort  terrace,  all  around  the  exhi- 
bition, and  at  twelve  o'clock  some  thousands  had  collected.  It  was 
not  easy  to  learn  the  object  of  this  gathering  ;  it  may  have  been  a 
mistake,  and  most  probably  it  was,  as  they  fell  in  with  the  great  body 
in  the  course  of  half  an  hour.  The  space  from  the  quays,  including  the 
great  sweep  in  front  of  the  Custom-house,  was  swarming  with  men, 
women,  and  small  children,  and  the  big  ungainly  crowd  bulged  out 
in  Gardiner  Street,  and  the  broad  space  leading  up  Talbot  Street. 
The  ranks  began  to  be  formed  at  eleven  o'clock  amid  a  down-pour  of 
cold  rain.  The  mud  was  deep  and  aqueous,  and  great  pools  ran 
through  the  streets  almost  level  with  the  paths.  Some  of  the  more 
]jroininent  of  the  men,  and  several  of  the  committee,  rode  about,  di- 
recting and  organizmg  the  crowd,  which  presented  a  most  extraordi- 
nary appearance.  A  couple  of  thousand  young  children  stood  quietly  in 
the  rain  and  slush  for  over  an  hour  ;  while  behind  them  in  close- 
packed  numbers,  were  over  two  thousand  young  women.  Not  the 
least  blame  can  be  attached  to  those  who  managed  the  affairs  of  the 
day,  inasmuch  as  the  throng  must  have  far  exceeded  even  their  most 
sanguine  expectations.  Every  moment  some  ovLr.vhelming  accession 
rolled  down  Abbey  Street  or  Eden  quay,  and   s\\  elled  the   already 


334 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


surging  multitude  waiting  for  the  start.  Long  before  twelve  o'clock, 
the  streets  converging  on  the  square  were  packed  with  spectators  or 
intending  processionists.  Cabs  struggled  hopelessly  to  yield  up  the 
number  of  highly  respectable  and  well-attired  ladies  who  had  come 
to  walk.  Those  who  had  hired  vehicles  for  the  day  to  join  the  pro- 
cession were  convinced  of  the  inij  raclicable  character  of  their  inten- 
tion ;  and  many  delicate  old  men,  who  would  not  give  up  the  design, 
braved  the  terrors  of  asthma  and  bronchitis,  and  joined  the  rain-defy- 
ing throng.  Right  across  the  spacious  ground  was  one  unmoving 
mass,  constantly  enlarged  by  evercoming  crowds.  All  the  windows 
in  Beresford  place  were  filled  with  the  spectators,  and  the  rain  and  cold 
seemed  to  have  no  saddening  effect  on  the  numerous  multitude.  The 
various  bands  of  the  trades  were  being  disposed  in  their  respective 
positions,  and  the  hearses  were  a  long  way  off,  and  altogether  in  the 
back-ground,  when  at  a  quarter  to  twelve,  the  first  rank  of  men  moved 
foruard.  Almost  every  one  had  an  umbrella,  but  they  were  thoroughly 
saturated  with  the  never-ceasing  down-pour.  As  the  steady,  well-kept, 
twelve-deep  ranks  moved  slowly  out,  some  ease  was  given  to  those 
pent  up  behind  ;  and  it  was  really  wonderful  to  see  the  facility  with  which 
tlie  people  adapted  themselves  to  the  orders  of  their  directors.  Every 
chance  of  falling  in  was  seized,  and  soon  the  procession  was  in  motion. 
The  first  five  hundred  men  were  of  the  artisan  class.  They  were 
dressed  very  respectably,  and  each  man  wore  upon  his  left  shoulder 
a  green  rosette,  and  on  his  left  arm  a  band  of  crape.  Numbers  had 
hat  bands  depending  to  the  shoulder  ;  others  had  close  crape  en- 
tertwined  carefully  with  green  ribbon  around  their  hats  ;  and  the 
great  majority  of  the  better  sort  adhered  to  this  plan,  which  was 
executed  with  a  skill  unmistakably  feminine.  Here  and  there  at  in- 
tervals a  man  appeared  with  a  broad  green  scarf  around  his  shoulders, 
some  embroidered  with  shamrocks,  and  others  decorated  with  harpp. 
There  was  not  a  man  throughout  the  procession  but  was  conspicuous 
by  some  emblem  of  nationality.  Appointed  officers  walked  at  the 
sides  with  wands  in  their  hands,  and  gently  kept  back  the  curious 
and  interested  crowd  whose  sympathy  was  certainly  demonstrative. 
Beliind  the  five  hundred  men  came  a  couple  of  thousand  young  chil- 
dren. These  excited,  perhaps,  the  most  considerable  interest  amongst 
the  bystanders,  whether  sympathetic,  neutral,  or  opposite.  Of  tender 
age,  and  innocent  of  opinions  on  any  subject,  they  were  being 
marshalled  by  their  parents  in  a  demonstration  which  will  probably 
give  a  tone  to  their  career  hereafter  :  and  seeds  in  the  juvenile  mind 
ever  bear  fruit  in  due  season.  The  presence  of  these  shivering  little 
ones  gave  a  serious  significance  to  the  procession — they  were  hostages 
to  the  party  who  had  organized  the  demonstration.  Earnestness  must 
indeed  have  been  strong  in  the  mind  of  the  parent  who  directed  his 
little  son  or  daughter  to  walk  in  saturating  rain  and  painful  cold 
through  five  or  six  miles  of  mud  and  water,  and  all  this  merely  to  saj/ 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


335 


"I  and  my  children  were  there."  It  portends  something  more  than 
sentiment.  It  is  national  education  with  a  vengeance.  Comment  on 
this  remarkable  constituent  was  very  frequent  throughout  the  day, 
and  when  towards  evening  this  band  of  boys  sang  out  with  lusty  una- 
nimity a  popular  Yankee  air,  spectators  were  satisfied  of  their  cul- 
ture and  training. 

After  the  children  came  about  one  hundred  young  women  who  had 
been  unable  to  gain  their  proper  position,  and  accepted  the  place 
which  chance  assigned  them.  They  were  succeeded  by  a  band 
dressed  very  respectably,  with  crape  and  green  ribbons  round  their 
caps.  These  were  followed  by  a  number  of  rather  elderly  men,  pro- 
bably the  parents  of  the  children  far  ahead.  At  this  portion  of  the 
procession,  a  mile  from  the  point,  they  marched  four  deep,  there  hav- 
ing been  a  gradual  decline  from  the  front.  Next  came  the  brick- 
layers' band,  all  dressed  in  green  caps,  a  very  superior-looking  body 
of  men.  Then  followed  a  very  imposing,  well-kept  line,  composed  of 
young  men  of  the  better  class,  well  attired  and  respectable-looking. 
These  wore  crape  hat-bands,  and  green  rosettes  with  harps  in  the  cen- 
tre. Several  had  broad  green  body  scarfs,  with  gold  tinsel  shamrocks 
and  harps  intertwined.  As  this  portion  of  the  procession  marched 
they  attracted  very  considerable  attention  by  their  orderly,  measured 
tread,  and  the  almost  soldierly  precision  with  which  they  maintained 
the  line.  They  numbered  about  four  or  five  thousand,  and  there 
were  few  who  were  not  young,  sinewy,  stalwart  fellows.  When  they 
had  reached  the  further  end  of  Abbey  Street,  the  ground  about 
Beresford  place  was  gradually  becoming  clear,  and  the  spectator  had 
some  opportunity  afforded  of  glancing  more  closely  at  the  component 
parts  of  the  great  crowd.  All  round  the  Custom-house  was  still 
packed  a  dense  throng,  and  large  streams  were  flowing  from  the 
northern  districts,  Clontarf,  the  Strand,  and  the  quays.  The  shipping 
was  gaily  decorated,  and  many  of  the  masts  were  filled  with  young 
tars,  wearing  green  bands  on  their  hats.  At  half-past  twelve  o'clock, 
the  most  interesting  portion  of  the  procession  left  the  Custom-house. 
About  two  thousand  young  women,  who,  in  attire,  demeanor,  and 
general  appearance,  certainly  justified  their  title  to  be  called  ladies, 
walked  in  six-deep  ranks.  The  general  public  kept  pace  with  them 
for  a  great  distance.  The  green  was  very  demonstrative,  every  lady 
having  shawl,  bonnet,  veil,  dress,  or  mantle  of  the  national  hue.  The 
mud  made  sad  havoc  of  their  attire,  but  notwithstanding  all  mishaps, 
they  maintained  good  order  and  regularity.  They  stretched  for  over 
half  a  mile,  and  added  very  notably  to  the  imposing  appearance  of 
the  procession.  So  great  was  the  pressure  in  Abbey  Street,  that  for 
a  very  long  time  there  were  no  less  than  three  processions  walking 
side-by-side.  These  halted  at  the  end  of  the  street,  and  followed  as 
they  were  afforded  opportunity.  One  of  the  bands  was  about  to  play 
near  the  Abbey  Street  Wesleyan  House,  but  when  a  policeman  told 


236  ^^^   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

them  of  the  proximity  of  the  place  of  worship,  they  immediately  de- 
sisted. The  first  hearse  was  a  very  long  way  back  in  the  Ime,  and  the 
foremost  men  must  have  been  near  the  Ormond  quays,  when  the  four 
horses  moved  into  Abbey  Street.  They  were  draped  with  black 
cloths,  and  white  plumes  were  at  their  heads.  The  hearse  also  had 
white  plumes,  and  was  covered  with  black  palls.  On  the  side  was 
"William  P.  Allen."  A  number  of  men  followed,  and  then  came  a 
band.  In  the  earlier  portion  of  the  day  there  were  seen  but  two 
hearses,  the  second  one  bearing  Larkin's  name.  It  was  succeeded 
by  four  mourning  coaches,  drawn  by  two  horses  each.  A  large  num- 
ber of  young  men  from  the  monster  houses  followed  in  admirable 
order.  In  this  throng  were  very  many  men  of  business,  large  em- 
ployers, and  members  of  the  professions."  Several  of  the  trades  were 
in  great  force.  It  had  been  arranged  to  have  the  trade  banners  car- 
ried in  front  of  the  artisans  of  every  calling,  but  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  chairman  this  design  was  abandoned.  The  men  walked,  however, 
in  considerable  strength.  They  marched  from  their  various  commit- 
tee-rooms to  the  Custom-house.  The  quay  porters  were  present  to 
the  number  of  500,  and  presented  a  very  orderly,  cleanly  appearance. 
They  were  comfortably  dressed,  and  walked  close  after  the  hearse 
bearing  Larkin's  name.  Around  this  bier  were  a  number  of  men  bear- 
ing in  their  hands  long  and  waving  palms — emblems  of  martyrdom. 
The  trades  came  next,  and  were  Jed  off  by  the  various  branches  of  the 
association  known  as  the  Amalgamated  Trades.  The  plasterers  made 
about  300,  the  painters  350,  and  boot  and  shoemakers  mustered  1,000, 
the  bricklayers  500,  the  carpenters  300,  the  slaters  450,  the  sawyers 
200,  and  the  skinners,  coopers,  tailors,  bakers,  and  the  other  trades, 
made  a  very  respectable  show,  both  as  to  numbers  and  appearance. 
Each  of  these  had  representatives  in  the  front  of  the  procession, 
amongst  the  fine  body  of  men  who  marched  eight  deep.  The  whole 
ground  near  the  starting  place  was  clear  at  half-past  one,  and  by  that 
time  the  demonstration  was  seen  to  a  greater  advantage  than  previously. 
All  down  Abbey  Street,  and,  in  fact,  throughout  the  procession,  the 
pathways  were  crowded  by  persons  who  were  practically  of  it,  though 
not  in  it.  Very  many  young  girls  naturally  enough  preferred  to  stand 
on  the  pathways,  rather  than  to  be  saturated  with  mud  and  water. 
But  it  may  truly  be  said  that  every  second  man  and  woman  of  the 
crowds  in  almost  every  street  were  of  the  procession.  Cabs  filled  with 
ladies  and  gentlemen  remained  at  the  waysides  all  day  w^atching  the 
march.  The  horses'  heads  were  gaily  decorated  with  green  ribbons, 
while  every  Jehu  in  the  city  wore  a  rosette,  or  a  crape  band.  Nothing 
of  special  note  occurred  until  the  procession  turned  into  Dame  Street. 
The  appearance  of  the  demonstration  was  here  far  greater  than  at  any 
other  portion  of  the  city.  Both  sides  of  the  street,  and  as  far  as 
Carlisle  bridge,  were  lined  with  cabs  and  carriages  filled  with  specta- 
tors who  were  prevented  by  the  bitter  inclemency  of  the  day  fronj 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN-.  537 

taking  an  active  part  in  the  proceedings.     The  procession  was  here 
grandly  imposing,  and  after  Larkin's  hearse  were  no  less  than  nine 
carriages   and  several  cabs.     It  is  stated  that  Mrs.  Luby  and  Miss 
Mulcahy' occupied  one  of  the  vehicles,  and  relatives  of  others  now  in 
cornnem-nt  were  alleged  to  have  been  present.     One  circumstance, 
which  was  generally  remarked  as  having  great   significance,  was  the 
presence  in  one  line  of  ten  soldiers  of  the  86th  Regiment.    They  were 
dressed  in  their  great  overcoats,  which  they  wore  open,  so  as  to  show 
the  scarlet  tunic.     These  men  may  have  been  on  leave,  inasmuch  as 
the  great  military  force  were  confined   to  barracks,  and  kept  under 
arms  from  six  o'clock,  a.  m.     The  cavalry  were  in  readmess  for  action, 
if  necessary.    Mounted  military  and  police  orderlies  were  stationed  at 
various  points  of  the  city  to   convey  any  requisite  mtelhgence  to  the 
authorities,  and  the  constabulary  at  the  depot,  Phcenix  Park,  were 
also  prepared,  if  their    services  should  be  required.     At  the  police 
stations  throughout  the  city  large  numbers  of  men  were  kept  all  day 
under  arms     It  is  pleasant  to  state  that  no  interference  was  necessary, 
as  the  great   demonstration  terminated  without  the  shghtest  disturb- 
ance    The  public  houses  generally  remained  closed  until  five  o  clock, 
and  'the    sobriety    of   the    crowds   was   the    subject    of   the    general 

^^Fr'^m  an   early  hour   in  the  morning  every  possible  position  along 
the  quays  that  afforded  a  good  view  of  the  procession  was  taken  ad- 
vantage of,  and,  despite    the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  the  parapets 
of  the  vadous   bridges,  commencing  at  Capel  Street,  were  crowded 
with   adventurous    youths,  who  seemed  to  think  nothing  of   the  risks 
they  ran  in  comparison  with  the  crportunities  they  had  of  seeing    he 
great  sight  in  all  its  splendor.      From  eleven  until   twelve   o  clock  the 
freatest  efforts  were    made   to   secure  good  places.     The  sidewalks 
were  crowded   and   impassable.     The  lower  wmdows  of  the  houses 
were  made  the   most  of  by  n>en  who  clutched   the  ^^^^^^"ers  and  bars 
whilst  the  upper  windows  were  as  a  general    rule,  filled  with  the  fair 
sex    and    it  is  almost   unnecessary   to   add   that  almost  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  displayed  some    emblem  suitable  to  the  occasion^ 
Indeed  the  originality  of  the  designs  was  a  striking  feature.      Ihe 
women  wore  gr?en  ribbons  and  veils,  and  many  entire  dresses  of  the 
favorite  color      The  numerous  windows  of  the  Four  Courts  accommo- 
dated   hundreds    of   ladies,    and    we    may    mention    that  within    the 
building  were  two  pieces  of  artillery,  a  plentiful  supply  of  rocket  ,  and 
a  numbi  of  policemen.   It  was  arranged   that   the  rockets  should  be 
fired  from  the  roof  in  case  military  assistance  was  required.    Contrary 
to  the  general  expectation,  the  head  of  the  procession   appeared  at 
Essex  bridge   shortly  before  twelve   o'clock.     As  it  was   expected  to 
leave  Beresford  place  about  that  time,  and  as  such  gigantic  arrange- 
ments are  seldom  carried  out  punctually,  the  thousands  o    people  who 
congregated   in   this  locality  were  pleasantly  disappointed   when   a 


338 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


society  band  turned  the  corner  of  Mary  Street  and  came  towards  the 
quays,  with  the  processionists  marching  in  slow  and  regular  time.  The 
order  that  prevailed  was  almost  marvellous — not  a  sound  was  heard 
but  the  mournful  strains  of  the  music,  and  the  prevalent  feeling  was 
expressed,  no  doubt,  by  one  or  two  of  the  processionists,  who  said 
in  answer  to  an  inquiry,  "We  will  be  our  own  police  to-day."  They 
certainly  were  their  own  police,  for  those  who  carried  white  wands  did 
not  spare  themselves  in  their  endeavors  to  maintain  order  in  the 
ranks.*  As  we  have  mentioned  already,  the  first  part  of  the  proces- 
sion reached  Capel  Street  shortly  before  twelve  o'clock,  and  some  idea 
of  the  extent  of  the  demonstration  may  be  formed  from  the  fact  that 
the  hearses  did  not  come  in  view  until  a  quarter-past  one  o'clock. 
They  appeared  at  intervals  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  were  received 
by  a  general  cry  of  "hush."  The  number  of  fine,  well-dressed 
young  women  in  the  procession  here  was  the  subject  of  general  re- 
mark, whilst  the  assemblage  of  boys  astonished  all  who  witnessed  it  on 
account  of  its  extent.  The  variety  of  the  tokens  of  mourning,  too, 
was  remarkable.  Numbers  of  the  women  carried  laurel  branches  in 
addition  to  green  ribbons  and  veils,  and  many  of  the  men  wore  sham- 
rocks in  their  hats.  The  procession  passed  along  the  quays  as  far  as 
King's  bridge,  and  it  there  crossed  and  passed  up  Stevens'  lane.  The 
windows  of  all  the  houses  en  route  were  crowded  chiefly  with  women, 
the  railings  at  the  Esplanade  and  at  King's  bridge  were  crowded  with 
spectators. 

About  one  o'clock  the  head  of  the  procession,  which  had  been  com- 
pressed into  a  dense  mass  in  Stevens'  lane,  burst  like  confined  water 
when  relieved  of  restraint,  on  entering  James's  Street,  where  every  win- 
dow and  doorstep  was  crowded.  Along  the  lines  of  footway  extend- 
ing at  either  side  from  the  old  fountain  up  to  James's  gate,  were  liter- 
ally tented  over  with  umbrellas  of  every  hue  and  shade,  held  up  as 
protection  against  the  cold  rain  that  fell  in  drizzling  showers,  and  made 
the  streetway  on  which  the  vast  numbers  stood  ankle-deep  in  the 
slushy  mud.  The  music  of  the  "Dead  March  in  Saul,"  heard  in  the 
distance,  caused  the  people  to  break  from  the  lines  in  which  they  had 
partially  stood  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  procession,  which  now,  for 
the  first  time,  began  to  assume  its  full  proportions.  As  it  moved 
along  the  quays  at  the  north  side  of  the  river,  every  street,  bridge, 
and  laneway  served  to  obstruct  to  a  considerable  extent  its  progress 
and  its  order,  owing  to  interruption  from  carriage  traffic,  and  from  the 
crowds  that  poured  into  it  and  swelled  it  in  its  onward  course.  In  the 
vast  multitudes  that  lined  this  great  western  artery  of  the  city,  the 
greatest  order  and  propriety  were  observed,  and  all  seemed  to  be  im- 
pressed with  the  one  solemn  and  all-pervading  idea  that  they  were  as- 
sembled to  express  their  deep  sympathy  with  the  fate  of  three  men 
whom  they  believed  had  been  condemned  and  had  suffered  death  un- 
justly.    Ev^n  amongst  the  young  there  was  not  to  be  recognized  the 


I 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


339 


slightest  approach  to  levity,  and  the  old  characteristics  of  a  great  Irish 
gathering  were  not  to  be  perceived  anywhere.  The  wrong,  whether  real 
or  imaginary,  done  to  Allen,  O'Brien,  and  Larkin,  made  their  memory 
sacred  with  the  thousands  that  stood  for  hours  in  the  December  wet 
and  cold  of  yesterday,  to  testify  by  their  presence  their  feelings  and 
their  sympathies.  The  horsemen  wearing  green  rosettes,  trimmed  with 
crape,  who  rode  in  advance  of  the  procession,  kept  back  the  crowds 
at  either  side  that  encroached  on  the  space  in  the  centre  of  the  street 
required  for  the  vast  coming  mass  to  move  through.  On  it  came,  the 
advance  with  measured  tread,  to  the  music  of  the  band  in  front,  and 
notwithstanding  the  mire  which  had  to  be  waded  through,  the  line 
went  on  at  quiet  pace,  and  with  admirable  order,  but  there  was  no 
effort  at  anything  like  semi-military  swagger  or  pompous  demonstra- 
tion. Every  window  along  the  route  of  the  procession  was  fully  oc- 
cupied by  male  and  female  spectators,  all  wearing  green  ribbons  and 
crape,  and  in  front  of  several  of  the  houses  black  drapery  was  sus- 
pended. The  tide  of  men,  women,  and  children  continued  to  roll  on 
in  the  drenching  rain,  but  nearly  all  the  fair  processionists  carried 
umbrellas. 

It  was  not  till  the  head  of  the  vast  moving  throng  had  reached 
James's  gate  that  anything  like  a  just  conception  could  be  formed  of 
its  magnitude,  as  it  was  only  now  that  it  was  beginning  to  get  into  re- 
gular shape,  and  find  room  to  extend  itself.  The  persons  whose  duty 
it  was  to  keep  the  several  parts  of  the  procession  well  together  had  no 
easy  part  to  play,  as  the  line  had  to  be  repeatedly  broken  to  permit  the 
ordinary  carriage  traffic  of  the  streets  to  go  on  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible.  The  cortege  at  this  point  looked  grand  and  solemn  in  the 
extreme,  because  of  its  vastness,  and  also  because  of  all  present  ap- 
pearing to  be  impressed  with  the  one  idea.  The  gloomy,  wet,  and 
cheerless  weather  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  funeral  march  of 
35,000  people.  The  bands  were  placed  at  such  proper  distance  that  the 
playing  of  one  did  not  interfere  with  the  other.  After  passing  James's 
gate  the  band  in  front  ceased  to  perform,  and  on  passing  the  house 
151  Thomas  Street  every  head  was  uncovered  in  honor  of  Lord  YA- 
ward  Fitzgerald,  who  was  arrested  and  mortally  wounded  by  Major 
Sirr  and  his  assistants  in  the  front  bedroom  of  the  second  floor  of  that 
house.  Such  was  the  length  of  the  procession,  that  an  hour  had 
elapsed  from  the  time  its  head  entered  James's  Street  before  the  first 
hearse  turned  the  corner  of  Stevens'  lane.  In  the  neighborhood  of 
St  Catherine's  church,  a  vast  crowd  of  spectators  had  settled  down,  and 
every  available  elevation  was  taken  possession  of.  At  this  point  a 
large  portion  of  the  streetway  was  broken  up  for  the  purpose  of  lay- 
ing down  water-pipes,  and  on  the  lifting-crane  and  tne  heaps  of  earth 
the  people  wedged  and  packed  themselves,  which  showed  at  once  that 
this  was  a  great  centre  of  attraction — and  it  was,  for  here  was  executed 
the  yfiung  and  enthusiastic   Eohert    Emrn^t  sixt,y-four   years  a^o 


340 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


When  Allen,  O'Brien,  and  Larkin  were  condemned  to  death  as  politi- 
cal offenders,  some  of  the  highest  and  the  noblest  in  the  land  warned 
the  government  to  pause  before  the  extreme  penalty  pronounced  on 
the  condemned  men  would  be  carried  into  effect,  but  all  remonstrance 
was  in  vain,  and  on  last  Saturday  fortnight,  three  comparatively  un- 
known men  in  their  death  passed  into  the  ranks  of  heroes  and  mar- 
tyrs, because  it  was  believed,  and  believed  generally,  that  their  lives 
were  sacrificed  to  expediency,  and  not  to  satisfy  justice,  The  spot 
where  Robert  Emmet  closed  his  young  life  on  a  bloody  scaffold  was 
yesterday  regarded  by  thousands  upon  thousands  of  his  countrymen 
and  women  as  a  holy  place,  and  all  looked  upon  his  fate  as  similar  to 
that  of  the  three  men  whose  memory  they  had  assembled  to  honor, 
and  whose  death  they  pronounced  to  be  unjust.  It  would  be  hard  to 
give  a  just  conception  of  the  scene  here,  as  the  procession  advanced 
and  divided,  as  it  were,  into  two  great  channels,  owing  to  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  streetway.  On  the  advance  of  the  cortege  reaching  the 
top  of  Bridgefoot  Street  every  head  was  uncovered,  and  nothing  was 
to  be  heard  but  the  measured  tread  of  the  vast  mass,  but  as  if  by 
some  secret  and  uncontrollable  impulse  a  mighty,  ringing,  and  en- 
thusiastic cheer,  broke  from  the  moving  throng  as  the  angle  of  the 
footway  at  the  eastern  end  of  St  Catherine's  church,  where  the 
scaffold  on  which  Emmet  was  executed  stood,  was  passed.  In  that 
cheer  there  appeared  to  be  no  fiction,  as  it  evidently  came  straight 
from  the  hearts  of  thousands,  who  waved  their  hats  and  handkerchiefs, 
as  did  also  the  groups  that  clustered  in  the  windows  of  the  houses  in 
the  neighborhood.  As  the  procession  moved  on,  from  every  part  of 
it  the  cheers  rose  again  and  again,  men  holding  up  their  children,  and 
pointing  out  the  place  where  one  who  loved  Ireland,  ''not  wisely  but 
too  well,"  rendered  up  his  life.  When  the  hearse  with  white  plumes 
came  up,  bearing  on  the  side  draperies  the  words  "William  P.  Allen," 
all  the  enthusiasm  and  excitement  ceased,  and  along  the  lines  of  spec- 
tators prayers  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  departed  man  passed 
from  mouth  to  mouth  ,  and  a  sense  of  deep  sadness  seemed  to  settle 
down  on  the  swaying  multitude  as  the  procession  rolled  along  on  its 
way  After  this  hearse  came  large  numbers  of  females,  walking  on 
bravely,  apparently  heedless  of  the  muddy  streets  and  the  unceasing 
rain  that  came  down  without  a  moment's  intermission.  When  the 
second  hearse,  bearing  white  plumes  and  the  name  of  "  MichaeJ 
O'Brien"  on  the  side  pendants,  came  up,  again  all  heads  were  un' 
covered,  and  prayers  recited  by  the  people  for  the  everlasting  rest  oi 
the  departed.  Still  onward  rolled  the  mighty  mass,  young  and  old^ 
and  in  the  entire  assemblage  was  not  to  be  observed  a  single  persoi 
under  the  influence  of  drink,  or  requiring  the  slightest  interference 
on  the  part  of  the  police,  whose  exertions  were  altogether  confined  tc 
keeping  the  general  thoroughfare  clear  of  obstruction.  Indeed,  justlj 
speaking,  the  people  required  no  supervision,  as  they  seemed  to  fed 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN,  34I 

that  they  had  a  solemn  duty  to  discharge.  Fathers  were  to  be  seen 
bearing  in  their  arms  children  dressed  in  white  and  decorated  with 
green  ribbons,  and  here,  as  elsewhere,  was  observed  unmistakable  evi- 
dence of  the  deep  sympathy  of  the  people  with  the  executed  men. 
This  was,  perhaps,  more  strikingly  illustrated  as  the  third  hearse,  with 
sable  plumes,  came  up,  bearing  at  either  side  the  name  of  "Michael 
Larkin  ;"  prayers  for  his  soul's  welfare  were  mingled  with  expressions 
of  commiseration  for  his  widow  and  children.  At  the  entrance  to 
Cornmarket,  were  the  streetway  narrows,  the  crushing  became  very 
great,  but  still  the  procession  kept  its  onward  course.  On  passing  the 
shop  of  Hayburne,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  convicted  of  being 
connected  with  the  Fenian  conspiracy,  a  large  number  of  persons  in 
the  procession  uncovered  and  cheered.  In  the  house  of  Roantree,  in 
High  Street,  who  was  also  convicted  of  treason-felony,  a  harp  was 
displayed  in  one  of  the  drawing-room  windows,  by  a  lady  dressed  in 
deep  mourning,  and  the  procession  loudly  cheered  as  it  passed  on  its 
route. 

Standing  at  the  corner  of  Christchurch  place,  a  fine  view  could 
be  had  of  the  procession  as  it  approached  Winetavern  Street  from 
High  Street.  The  compact  mass  moved  on  at  a  regular  pace, 
while  from  the  windows  on  either  side  of  the  streets  the  well 
dressed  citizens,  who  preferred  to  witness  the  demonstration  from 
an  elevated  position  rather  than  undergo  the  fatigues  and  unpleas- 
antness of  a  walk  through  the  city  in  such  weather,  eagerly  watched 
the  approach  of  the  procession.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  horsemen, 
and  those  whose  wands  showed  it  was  their  duty  to  marshal  the 
immense  throng,  the  procession  moved  at  an  orderly  pace  down 
Winetavern  Street,  which,  spacious  as  it  is,  was  in  a  few  minutes 
absolutely  filled  with  the  vast  crowds.  The  procession  again  reached 
the  quays,  and  moved  along  Wood  quay  and  Essex  quay,  and  into 
Parliament  Street,  which  it  reached  at  twenty  minutes  to  two 
o'clock.  Passing  down  Parliament  Street,  and  approaching  the 
O'Connell  statue,  a  number  of  persons  began  to  cheer,  but  this  was 
promptly  suppressed  by  the  leaders,  who  galloped  in  advance  for 
some  distance  with  a  view  to  the  preservation  of  the  mournful 
silence  that  had  prevailed.  This  was  strictly  enjoined,  and  the  in- 
struction was  generally  observed  by  the  processionists.  The  rever- 
ential manner  in  which  the  many  thousands  of  the  people  passed 
the  statue  of  the  Liberator  was  very  observable.  A  rather  heavy 
rain  was  falling  at  the  time,  yet  there  were  thousands  who  uncov- 
ered their  heads  as  they  looked  up  to  the  statue  which  expressed 
the  noble  attitude  and  features  of  O'Connell.  As  the  procession 
moved  along  through  Dame  Street  the  footways  became  blocked  up, 
and  lines  of  cabs  took  up  places  in  the  middle  of  the  carriageway, 
and  the  police  exercised  a  wise  discretion  in  preventing  vehicles 
from  the  surrounding  streets  driving  in  amongst  the  crowds.     By 


342 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREETT. 


this  means  the  danger  of  serious  accident  was  prevented  without 
any  public  incovenience  being  occasioned,  as  a  line  parellel  to 
that  which  the  procession  was  taking  was  kept  clear  for  all  horse 
conveyances.  Owing  to  the  hour  growing  late,  and  a  considerable 
distance  still  to  be  gone  over,  the  procession  moved  at  a  quick  pace. 
In  anticipation  of  its  arrival  great  crowds  collected  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Bank  of  Ireland  and  Trinity  College,  where  the  cortege  was 
kept  well  together,  notwithstanding  the  difficulty  of  such  a  vast 
mass  passing  on  through  the  heart  of  the  city  filled  at  this  point 
with  immense  masses  of  spectators.  On  passing  the  old  Parliament 
house  numbers  of  men  in  the  procession  took  off  their  hats,  but  the 
disposition  to  cheer  was  suppressed,  as  it  was  at  several  other  points 
along  the  route.  Turning  down  Westmoreland  Street,  the  proces- 
sion, marshalled  by  Dr.  Waters  on  horseback,  passed  slowly  along 
between  the  thick  files  of  people  on  each  side,  most  of  whom  dis- 
played the  mourning  and  national  symbols,  black  and  green.  The 
spacious  thoroughfare  in  a  few  minutes  was  filled  with  the  dense 
array,  which  in  close  compact  ranks  pressed  on,  the  women,  youths, 
and  children,  bearing  bravely  the  privations  of  the  day,  the  bands 
preceding  and  following  the  hearses  playing  the  "  Dead  March,"  the 
solemn  notes  filling  the  air  with  mournful  cadence.  The  windows 
of  the  houses  on  each  side  of  the  street  were  filled  with  groups  of 
spectators  of  the  strange  and  significant  spectacle  below.  With 
the  dark  masses  of  men,  broken  at  intervals  by  the  groups  of 
females  and  children,  still  stretched  lengthily  in  the  rear,  the  first 
section  of  tlje  procession  crossed  Carlisle  bridge,  the  footways  and 
parapets  of  which  were  thronged  with  people,  nearly  all  of  whom 
wore  the  usual  tokens  of  sympathy.  Passing  the  bridge  a  glance 
to  the  right,  down  the  river,  revealed  the  fact  that  the  ships, 
almost  without  exception,  had  their  flags  flying  half-mast  high, 
and  that  the  rigging  of  several  were  filled  with  seamen,  who  chose 
this  elevated  position  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  procession  as  it 
emerged  into  Sackville  Street.  Here  the  sight  was  imposing.  A 
throng  of  spectators  lined  each  side  of  the  magnificent  thorough- 
fare, and  the  lofty  houses  had  their  windows  on  each  side  occupied 
with  spectators.  Pressing  onwards  with  measured,  steady  pace,  re- 
gardless of  the  heavy  rain,  the  cold  wind,  and  the  gloomy  sky,  the 
procession  soon  filled  Sackville  Street  from  end  to  end  with  its 
dense,  dark  mass,  which  stretching  away  over  Carlisle  bridge  seemed 
motionless  in  the  distance.  The  procession  defiled  to  the  left 
of  the  site  of  the  O'Connell  monument  at  the  head  of  the  street, 
and  the  national  associations  connected  with  this  spot  were  ac- 
knowledged by  the  large  numbers  of  the  processionists,  who, 
with  uncovered  heads,  marched  past,  some  expressing  their  feelings 
with  a  subdued  cheer.  The  foremost  ranks  were  nearing  Glasnevin 
when  the   first  of   the   hearses   entered  Sackville  Street,  which,  at 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


343 


this  moment,  held  a  numerous  throng  of  people,  processionists 
and  spectators,  the  latter,  as  at  all  the  other  points  of  the  route,  ex- 
hibiting prominently  the  sable  and  green  emblems,  which  evi- 
denced their  approval  of  the  demonstration.  The  hearses  slowly 
passed  along,  followed  by  the  mourning  carriages,  the  bands  playing 
alternately  "Adeste  Fideiis,"  and  the  "Dead  March,"  and  then  fol- 
lowed the  deep  column  of  the  processionists,  still  marching  onwards 
with  unflagging  spirit,  thousands  seeming  to  be  thoroughly  soaked 
with  the  rain,  which  was  falling  all  the  morning,  Sackville  Street 
was  perhaps  the  best  point  from  which  to  get  a  correct  notion  of 
the  enormous  length  of  the  procession,  and  of  the  great  numbers 
that  accompanied  it  on  its  way,  without  actually  entering  the  ranks. 
The  base  of  the  Nelson  monument  was  covered  with  spectators,  and 
at  the  corners  of  Earl  Street  and  Henry  Street  there  were  stationary 
crowds,  who  chose  these  positions  to  get  a  good  view  of  the  great 
display  as  it  progressed  towards  Cavendish  row.  Through  this  com- 
paratively narrow  thoroughfare  the  procession  passed  along  into 
North  Frederick  Street  and  Blessington  Street,  and  thence  by  Uppei 
Berkeley  Street  to  the  Circular  Road.  Along  this  part  of  the  route 
there  were  crowds  of  spectators,  male  and  female,  most  of  whonj 
wore  the  crape  and  green  ribbons,  all  hurrying  forward  to  the  ceme- 
tery, the  last  stage  of  the  long  and  fatiguing  journey  of  the  proces- 
sion. As  the  first  part  of  the  array  passed  the  Mater  Misericordiae 
Hospital,  and  came  in  sight  of  the  Mountjoy  prison,  they  gave  a 
cheer,  which  was  caught  up  by  those  behind,  and  as  file  after  file 
passed  the  prison  the  cheers  were  repeated.  With  unbroken  and 
undiminished  ranks  the  procession  pressed  on  towards  Glasnevin  ; 
but  when  the  head  had  reached  the  cemetery,  the  closing  section 
must  have  been  far  away  in  the  city.  The  first  part  of  the  pro- 
cession halted  outside  the  gate  of  the  cemetery,  the  spacious  area  in 
front  of  which  was  in  a  few  moments  completely  filled  by  the  dense 
masses  who'  came  up.  A  move  then  became  necessary,  and  accord- 
ingly the  procession  recommenced  its  journey  by  passing  through 
the  open  gates  of  the  cemetery  down  the  pathways  leading  to  the 
MacManus  grave,  followed  by  some  of  the  bands  playing  the  ^'Ades- 
te  Fideiis."  As  fast  as  the  files  passed  through,  others  marched  up, 
and  when,  after  some  time,  the  carriage  containing  Mr.  John  Martin 
arrived,  the  open  ground  fronting  the  cemetery  was  one  enormous 
mass  of  the  processionists,  while  behind,  on  the  road  leading  up  to 
this  point,  thousands  were  to  be  seen  moving  slowly  forward  to  the 
strains  of  the  "Dead  March,"  given  out  by  the  bands  immediately  in 
front  of  the  hearses. 

MR.    martin's  address. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  procession  at  the  cemetery  Mr.  Martin  was 


2^  THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

hailed  with  loud  applause.  It  being  understood  he  would  make 
some  observations,  the  multitude  gathered  together  to  hear  him.  He 
addressed  the  vast  multitude  from  the  window  of  the  house  overlook- 
ing the  great  open  space  in  front  of  the  cemetery.  On  presenting  him- 
self he  was  received  with  enthusiastic  cheering.  When  silence  was 
obtained  he  said  : — 

"  Fellow-countrymen,— This  is  a  strange  kind  of  funeral  procession 
in  which  we  are  engaged  to-day.  We  are  here  a  vast  multitude  of  men, 
women,  and  children  in  a  very  inclement  season  of  the  year,  under 
rain  and  through  nmd.  We  are  here  escorting  three  empty  hearses 
to  the  consecrated  last  resting-place  of  those  who  die  in  the  Lord 
(cheers).  The  three  bodies  that  we  would  tenderly  bear  to  the  church- 
yard, and  would  bury  in  consecrated  ground,  with  all  the  solemn  rites 
of  religion,  are  not  here.  They  are  away  in  a  foreign  and  hostile 
land  (hear,  hear),  where  they  have  been  thrown  into  unconsecrated 
ground,  branded  by  the  triumphant  hatred  of  our  enemies  as  the  vile 
remains  of  murderers  (^cries  of  'no  murderers,'  and  cheers).  Those 
three  men  whose  memories  we  are  here  to-day  to  honor — Allen 
O'Brien,  and  Larkin — they  were  not  murderers  (great  cheering).  [A 
voice — *  Lord  have  mercy  on  them.']  These  men  were  pious  men, 
virtuous  men,  they  were  men  who  feared  God,  and  loved  their  country. 
They  sorrowed  for  the  sorrows  of  the  dear  old  native  land  of  their 
love  (hear,  hear).  They  wished,  if  possible,  to  save  her,  and  for  that 
love,  and  for  that  wish,  they  were  doomed  to  an  ignominious  death  at 
the  hands  of  the  British  hangman  (hear,  hear).  It  was  as  Irish  patri- 
ots that  these  men  were  doomed  to  death  (cheers).  And  it  was  as 
Irish  patriots  that  they  met  their  death  (cheers).  For  these  reasons, 
my  countrymen,  we  here  to-day  have  joined  in  this  solemn  procession 
to  honor  their  memories  (cheers).  For  that  reason  we  say  from  our 
hearts,  *  May  their  souls  rest  in  peace'  (cries  of  Amen,  and  cheers). 
For  that  reason,  my  countrymen,  we  pin  in  their  last  prayer,  '  God 
save  Ireland'  (enthusiastic  cheering).  The  death  of  these  men  was  an 
act  of  English  policy.  [Here  there  was  some  interruption,  caused  by 
the  fresh  arrivals  and  the  pushing  forward.]  I  beg  of  all  within  reach 
of  my  voice  to  end  this  demonstration  as  we  have  carried  it  through 
to  the  present  time,  with  admirable  patience,  in  the  best  spirit,  with  re- 
spect, silence,  and  solemnity,  to  the  end  (cheers,  and  cries  of  '  we 
will').  I  say  the  death  of  these  men  was  a  legal  murder,  and  that 
legal  murder  was  an  act  of  English  policy  (cheers) — of  the  policy  of 
that  nation  which,  through  jealousy  and  hatred  of  our  nation,  des- 
troyed by  fraud  and  force  our  just  government  sixty-seven  years  ago 
(cheers).  They  have  been  sixty-seven  sad  years  of  insult  and  rob- 
bery— of  impoverishment — of  extermination — of  suffering  beyond 
what  any  other  subject  people  but  ours  have  ever  endured  from  the 
malignity  of  foreign  masters  (cheers).     Nearly  through  all  these  years 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  c? 


45 


the  Irish  people  continued  to  pray  for  the  restoration  of  their  Irish 
national  rule.  They  offered  their  forgiveness  to  England.  They 
offered  even  their  friendship  to  England,  if  she  would  only  give  up  her 
usurped  power  to  tyrannize  over  us,  and  leave  us  to  live  in  peace, 
and  as  honorable  neighbors.  But  in  vain.  England  felt  herself  strong 
enough  to  continue  to  insult  and  rob  us,  and  she  was  too  greedy  and  too 
insolent  to  cease  from  robbing  and  insulting  us  (cheers).  Now  it  has 
come  to  pass,  as  a  consequence  of  that  malignant  policy  pursued  for 
so  many  years — it  has  come  to  pass  that  the  great  body  of  the 
Irish  people  despair  of  obtaining  peaceful  restitution  of  our  national 
rights  (cheers).  And  it  has  also  come  to  pass  that  vast  numbers  of 
Irishmen  whom  the  opresssion  of  English  rule  forbade  to  live  by 
honest  industry  in  their  own  country,  have  in  America  learned  to  be- 
come soldiers  (cheers.)  And  those  Irish  soldiers  seem  resolved  to  make 
war  against  England  (cheers.)  And  England  is  in  a  panic  of  rage  and 
fear  in  consequence  of  this  (loud  cheers).  And  being  in  a  panic  about 
Fenianism,  she  hopes  to  strike  terror  into  her  Irish  malcontents 
by  a  legal  murder  (loud  cheers).  England  wanted  to  show  that  she 
was  not  afraid  of  Fenianism  [A  voice — She  will  be].  And  she  has 
only  shown  that  she  is  not  afraid  to  do  injustice  in  the  face  of  Heaven 
and  of  man.  Many  a  wicked  statute  she  has  framed — many  a  jury  she 
has  packed,  in  order  to  dispose  of  her  Irish  political  offenders — but 
in  the  case  of  Allen,  O'Brien,  and  Larkin,  she  has  committed  such  an 
outrage  on  justice  and  decency  as  to  make  even  many  Englishmen 
stand  aghast.  I  shall  not  detain  you  with  entering  into  details  with 
which  you  are  all  well  acquainted,  as  to  the  shameful  scenes  of  the  hand- 
cuffing of  the  untried  prisoners — as  to  the  shameful  scenes  of  the 
trials  up  to  the  last  moment,  when  the  three  men — our  dearly  beloved 
Irish  brethren,  were  forced  to  give  up  their  innocent  lives  as  a  sacri- 
fice for  the  cause  of  Ireland  (loud  cheers)  ;  and,  fellow-countrymen, 
these  three  humble  Irishmen  who  represented  Ireland  on  that  sad  oc- 
casion, demeaned  themselves  as  Christians,  as  patriots,  modestly, 
courageously,  piously,  nobly  (loud  cheers) .  We  need  not  blush  for 
them.  They  bore  themselves  all  through  with  a  courage  worthy  of 
the  greatest  heroes  that  ever  obtained  glory  upon  earth.  They  be- 
haved through  all  the  trying  scenes  I  referred  to  with  Christian  patience 
— with  resignation  to  the  will  of  God — (hear,  hear) — with  modest,  yet 
proud  and  firm  adherence  to  principle  (cheers).  They  showed  their  love 
to  Ireland  and  their  fear  of  God  from  the  first  to  the  last  (cheers).  It 
is  vain  for  me  to  attempt  to  detain  you  with  many  words  upon  this 
matter.  I  will  say  this,  that  all  who  are  here  do  not  approve  of  the 
schemes  for  the  relief  of  Ireland  that  these  men  were  supposed  to 
have  contemplated  ;  but  all  who  love  Ireland,  all  generous.  Christian 
men,  and  women,  and  children  of  Ireland — all  the  children  growing 
up  to  be  men  and  women  of  Ireland  (hear,  hear) — all  those  teel  an 
intense  sympathy,  an  intense  love  for  the  memories  of  these  three 


2^6  ^-^-^    WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 

men  whom  England  has  murdered  in  form  of  law  ij  way  of  stri'  *•:§ 
terror  into  her  Irish  subjects. 

"  Fellow-countrymen,  it  is  idle  almost  for  me  to  persist  in  address- 
ing weak  words  of  mine  to  you — for  your  presence  here  to-day — your 
demeanor  all  through — the  solemn  conduct  of  the  vast  nuiltitude  as- 
sembled directly  under  the  terrorism  of  a  hostile  government — say 
more  than  the  words  of  the  greatest  orator — more  than  the  words  of 
a  Meagher  could  say  for  you  (cheers).  You  have  behaved  yourselves 
all  through  this  day  with  most  admirable  spirit  as  good  Irishmen  and 
women — as  good  boys  and  girls  of  holy  Ireland  ought  to  do  (cheers), 
and  I  am  sure  you  w411  behave  so  to  the  end  (cries  of  yes,  yes).  This 
demonstration  is  mainly  one  of  mourning  for  the  fate  of  these  three 
good  Irishmen  (cheers),  but,  fellow-countrymen,  and  women,  and  boys, 
and  girls,  it  is  also  one  of  protest  and  indignation  against  the  conduct 
01  our  rulers  (hear,  hear,  and  cheers).  Youi  attendance  here  to-day 
is  a  sufficient  protest.  Your  orderly  behavior — your  good  temper  all 
through  this  wretched  weather — your  attendance  here  in  such  vast 
numbers  for  such  a  purpose — avowedly  and  in  the  face  of  the  terror- 
ism of  the  government,  which  falls  most  directly  upon  the  metropolis 
— that  is  enough  for  protest.  You  in  your  multitudes,  men,  women, 
and  children,  have  to-day  made  that  protest.  Your  conduct  has  been 
admirable  for  patience,  for  good  nature,  for  fine  spirit,  for  solemn 
sense  of  that  great  duty  you  were  resolved  to  do.  You  will  return 
home  with  the  same  good  order  and  inoffensiveness.  You  will  join 
with  me  now,  in  repeating  the  prayer  of  the  three  martyrs  whom  we 
^lourn — *  God  save  Ireland!'  And  all  of  you,  men,  women,  and  boys 
and  girls  that  are  to  be  men  and  women  of  holy  Ireland,  will  ever 
keep  the  sentiment  of  that  prayer  in  your  heart  of  hearts."  Mr.  Martin 
concluded  amid  enthusiastic  cheering. 

At  the  conclusion  oi  his  address,  Mr.  Martin,  accompanied  by  a 
large  body  of  the  processionists,  proceeded  to  the  cemetery,  where 
Mr.  Martin  visited  the  grave  of  Terence  Bellew  MacManus.  The 
crowd  walked  around  the  grave,  as  a  mark  of  respect  for  the  memory 
of  MacManus.  Mr.  Martin  left  the  cemetery  soon  after,  and  went  to 
his  carriage;  the  people  gathered  about  him  and  thanked  him,  and 
cheered  him  loudly.  The  vast  assemblage  dispersed  in  the  most  orderly 
and  peaceful  manner,  and  returned  to  their  homes.  They  had  suffered 
much  from  the  severity  of  the  day,  but  they  exhibited  to  the  end  the 
most  creditable  endurance  and  patience.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  the 
roads  were  cleared,  and  the  city  soon  resumed  its  wonted  quiet  aspect.* 

*  In  consequence  of  some  vile  misstatements  in  the  g'overnment  press,  which  represented 
the  crowd  to  have  not  only  behaved  recklessly,  but  to  have  done  considerable  damage  to  the 
graves,  tombs,  shrubs,  and  fences  in  the  cemetery.  Mr.  Coyle.  secretary  to  the  Cemetery 
Board,  published  in  the  Freeman  an  official  contradiction,  stating  that  not  one  sixpence- 
worth  of  damage  had  been  done.  It  is  furthermore  worthy  of  note,  that  at  the  city  police 
officej  next  morning  not  one  case  arising  out  of  the  procession  was  before  the  magistrates, 
and  the  charges  for  drunkenness  were  one-fourth  below  the  average  on  Mondays. 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


347 


Of  the  numbers  in  the  processlrwn  "An  Eye-witness,"  writing 
in  the  Freeman^  says  : — 

The  procession  took  one  hour  and  forty  minutes  to  pass  the  Four 
Courts.  Let  us  assume  that  as  the  average  time  in  which  it  would 
pass  any  given  point,  and  deduct  ten  minutes  for  delays  during  that 
time.  If,  then,  it  moved  at  the  rate  of  two  and  a  half  miles  per  hour, 
we  find  its  length,  wath  those  suppositions,  would  be  three  and 
three-quarter  miles.  From  this  deduct  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  for  breaks 
or  discrepancies,  and  we  find  the  length  of  the  column,  if  it  moved  in 
a  continuous  line,  to  be  three  and  a  half  miles.  We  may  now  suppose 
the  ranks  to  be  three  feet  apart,  and  consisting  of  ten  in  each,  at  an 
average.  The  total  number  is  therefore  easily  obtained  by  dividing 
the  product  of  3  1-2  and  5,280  by  3,  and  multiplying  the  quotient  by 
10.  This  will  give  as  a  result  61,600,  which,  I  think,  is  a  fair 
approximation  to  the  number  of  people  in  the  procession  alone. 

Even  in  the  columns  of  the  Irish  Times  a  letter  appeared 
giving  an  honest  estimate  of  the  numbers  in  the  procession.  It 
was  signed  ''T.  M.  G.,"  and  said  :— 

I  believe  there  was  not  fewer  than  60,000  persons  taking  part  in  the 
procession  on  Sunday.  My  point  of  observation  was  one  of  the  best 
in  the  city,  seeing,  as  I  could,  from  the  entrance  to  the  Lower  Castle 
yard  to  the  College  gate.  I  was  as  careful  in  my  calculation  as  an  al- 
most quick  march  would  allow.  There  were  also  a  few  horsemen, 
three  hearses,  and  sixty-one  hired  carriages,  cabs,  and  cars.  A  cor- 
respondent in  your  columns  this  morning,  speaks  of  rows  of  from  four 
to  nine  deep;  I  saw  very  many  of  from  ten  to  sixteen  deep,  especially 
among  the  boys.  The  procession  took  exactly  eighty  minutes  to 
pass  this.     There  were  several  thousand  onlookers  within  my  view. 

Of  the  ladies  in  the  procession  the  Frccmmi  s  Journal  bore  the 
following  testimony,  not  more  generous  than  truthful: — 

The  most  important  physical  feature  was  not,  however,  the  respect- 
able dress,  the  manly  bearing,  the  order,  discipline,  and  solemnity  of 
the  men,  but  the  large  bodies  of  ladies  who,  in  rich  and  costly  attire, 
marched  the  whole  length  of  the  long  route,  often  ankle- deep  in  mud, 
utterly  regardless  of  the  incessant  down-poiir  of  rain  which  deluged 
their  silks  and  satins,  and  melted  the  mourning  crape  till  it  seemed 
incorporated  with  the  very  substance  of  the  velvet  mantles  or  rich 
shawls  in  which  so  many  of  the  fair  processionists  were  enveloped. 
In  vain  did  well-gloved  hands  hold  thousands  of  green  parasols  and 


348 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


umbrellas  over  their  heads  as  they  walked  four  and  five  deep  through 
the  leading  thoroughfares  yesterday.  The  bonnets  with  their  '*  green  and 
crape"  were  alone  defensible,  velvets  and  Paisleys,  bilks  and  satins, 
met  one  common  fate — thorough  saturation.  Yet  all  this  and  more  was 
borne  without  a  murmur.  These  ladies,  and  there  were  many  hun- 
dreds of  them,  mingled  with  thousands  in  less  rich  attire,  went  out  to 
co-operate  with  their  iathers,  brothers,  and  sweethearts  in  honoring  the 
three  men  who  died  upon  the  ignominious  gallows,  and  they  never 
flinched  before  the  corrents,  or  swerved  for  an  instant  from  the  ranks. 
There  must  be  some  deep  and  powerful  influence  underlying  this 
movement  that  could  induce  thousands  of  matrons  and  girls  of  from 
eighteen  to  two-and-twenty,  full  cf  the  blushing  modesty  that  distin- 
guishes Irishwomen,  to  lay  aside  their  retiring  characteristics,  and 
march  to  the  sound  of  martial  music  through  every  thoroughfare  in 
the  metropolis  of  this  country,  decked  in  green  and  crape. 

The  Dublin  correspondent  of  the  Tipperary  Free  Press  re- 
ferred to  the  demonstration  as  follows: — ■ 

Arrived  in  Sackville  Street  we  were  obliged  to  leave  our  cab  and 
endeavor,  on  foot,  to  force  a  way  to  our  destination.  This  magnifi- 
cent street  was  crowded  to  repletion,  and  the  approaches  to  Beresford 
place  were  "black  with  people."  It  was  found  necessary,  owing  to 
the  overwhelming  numbers  that  assembled,  to  start  the  procession  be- 
fore the  hour  named  for  its  setting  forth,  and  so  it  was  commenced  in 
wonderful  order,  considering  the  masses  that  had  to  be  wielded  into 
shape.  Marshals  on  foot  and  on  horseback  proceeded  by  the  side  cf 
those  in  rank  and  file,  and  they  certainly  were  successful  in  preserving 
regularity  of  procedure.  Mourning  coaches  and  cabs  followed,  and 
after  each  was  a  procession  of  women,  at  least  a  thousand  in  number. 
Young  and  old  were  there — all  decked  in  some  shape  or  other  with 
green  ;  many  green  dresses — some  had  green  feathers  in  their  hats, 
but  all  had  green  ribbons  prominently  displayed.  The  girls  bore  all 
the  disagreeability  of  the  long  route  with  wonderful  endurance  ;  it  was 
bitterly  cold — a  sleety  rain  fell  during  the  entire  day,  and  the  roads 
were  almost  ankle-deep  in  mud — yet  when  they  passed  me  on  the 
return  route  they  were  apparently  as  unwearied  as  when  I  saw  them 
hours  before.  As  the  procession  trooped  by — thousand  after  thousand 
— there  was  not  a  drunken  man  to  be  seen — all  were  calm  and  orderly, 
and  if  they  were,  as  many  of  them  were — soaked  through — wet  to  the 
skin — they  endured  the  discomfiture  resolutely.  The  numbers  in  the 
procession  have  been  variously  estimated,  but  in  my  opinion  there 
could  not  have  been  less  than  50,000.  But  the  demonstration  was 
not  confined  to  the  processionists  alone  ;  they  walked  through  living 
avails,  for  along  the  entire  route  a  mass  of  people  lined  the  way,  the 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  3^ 

great  majority  of  whom  wore  some  emblem  of  mourning,  and  every 
window  of  every  house  was  thronged  with  ladies  and  children,  nearly 
all  of  whom  were  decorated.  All  semblance  of  authority  was  with- 
drawn from  sight,  but  every  preparation  had  been  made  under  the 
personal  direction  of  Lord  Strathnairn,  the  commander-in-chief,  tor 
the  instant  intervention  of  the  military,  had  any  disturbances  taken 
place.  The  troops  were  confined  to  barracks  since  Saturday  even- 
ing ;  they  were  kept  in  readiness  to  march  at  a  moment's  notice  ;  ihe 
norses  of  the  cavalry  were  saddled  all  day  long,  and  those  of  the  artil- 
lery were  in  harness.  A  battery  of  guns  was  in  the  rear  yard  of  die 
Four  Courts,  and  mounted  orderlies  were  stationed  at  arranged  points 
so  as  to  convey  orders  to  the  different  barracks  as  speedily  as  possi- 
ble. But,  thanks  to  Providence,  all  passed  off  quietly  ;  the  people 
seemed  to  feel  the  responsibility  of  their  position,  and  accordingly  not 
even  an  angry  word  was  to  be  heard  throughout  the  vast  assemblage 
that  for  hours  surged  through  the  highways  of  the  city. 

The  Ulster  Observer,  in  the  course  of  a  beautiful  and  sympa- 
thetic article,  touched  on  the  great  theme  as  follows : — 

The  main  incidents  of  the  singular  and  impressive  event  are  worthy 
or  reflection.     On  a  cold  December  morning,  wet  and  dreary  as  any 
morning  in  December  might  be,  vast  crowds  assembled  in  the  heart  of 
Dublin    to  follow  to  consecrated    ground    the  empty  hearses   which 
bore  the  names  of  the  Irishmen  whom  England  doomed  to  the  gallows 
as  murderers.     The  air  was  piercingly  chill,  the  rain  poured  down  in 
torrents,  the   streets   were  almost  impassable  from  the  accumulated 
pools  of  mingled  water  and  mud,  yet  80,000  people  braved  the  incle- 
mency of  the  weather,  and  unfalteringly  carried  out  the  programme  so 
fervently  adopted.     Amongst  the  vast  multitude  there  were  not  only 
stalwart  men,  capable  of  facing  the  difficulties  of  the  day,  but  old 
men,  who  struggled   through  and  defied  them  ;  and,  strangest  of  all, 
*'  young  ladies,  clothed  in  silk  and  velvet,"  and  women  with  tender 
children  by  their  sides,  all  of  whom  continued  to  the  last  to  form  a 
a  part  of  the  cortege,  although  the  distance  over  which  it  passed  must 
have  taxed  the  strongest  physical  energy.     What  a  unanimity  of  feel- 
ing, or  rather  what  a  naturalness  of  sentiment,  does  not  this  wonderful 
demonstration  exhibit.    It  seems  as  if  the  "  God  save  Ireland"  of  the 
humble  successors  of  Emmet  awoke  in  even  the  breast  of  infancy  the 
thrill  which  must  have  vibrated  sternly  and  strongly  in  the  heart  of 
manhood.     Without   exalting  into  classical   grandeur  the  simple  and 
affectionate   devotion  of    a    simple    and   unsophisticated    people,   wc 
might  compare  this  spectacle  to  that  which  ancient  Rome  witnessed 
when   the  ashes  of   Germanicus  were  borne   in  solemn   state  within 
her  portals.      There  were   there   the    attendant    crowd  of    female 


350 


THE   WEARING  GF  THE  GREEN. 


mourners,  and  the  bowed  heads  and  sorrowing  hearts  of  strong  men. 
If  the  Irish  throngs  had  no  hero  to  lament,  who  sustained  their  glory 
in  the  field,  and  gained  for  them  fresh  laurels  of  victory,  theirs  was 
at  least  a  more  disinterested  tribute  of  grief,  since  it  was  paid  to  the 
unpretending  merit  which  laid  dov.n  life  with  the  simple  prayer  of 
'*  God  save  Ireland  !"  Amidst  all  the  numerous  thousands  who  pro- 
ceeded to  Glasnevin,  there  was  not,  probably,  one  who  would  have 
sympathized  with  any  criminal  offence,  much  less  with  the  hideous 
one  of  murder.  And  yet  these  thousands  honored  and  revered  the 
memory  of  the  men  condemned  in  England  as  assassins,  and  ignomin- 
iously  buried  in  felons'  graves. 

This  mighty  demonstration — at  once  so  unique,  so  solemn, 
so  impressive,  so  portentous — was  an  event  which  the  rulers  of 
Ireland  felt  to  be  of  critical  importance.  Following  upon  the 
R^equiem  Masses  and  the  other  processions,  it  amounted  to  a 
^reat  public  verdict  which  changed  beyond  all  resistance  the 
moral  character  of  the  Manchester  trial  and  execution.  If  the 
procession  could  only  have  been  called  a  ''  Fenian"  demonstra* 
tion,  then  indeed  the  government  might  hor>e  to  detract  from 
'ts  significance  and  importance.  The  sympath  /  of  "  co-conspira- 
:ors"  with  fallen  companions  could  not  well  be  claimed  as  an 
."ndex  of  general ///^//6-  opinion.  But  here  vv^as  a  demonstration 
notoriously  apart  from  Fcnianism,  and  it  showed  that  a  moral, 
a  peaceable,  a  virtuous,  a  religious  people,  moved  by  the  most 
virtuous  and  religious  instincts,  felt  themselves  coerced  to  ex- 
ecrate as  a  cowardly  and  revolting  crime  the  act  of  state  policy 
consummated  on  the  Manchester  gibbet.  In  fine,  the  country 
was  up  in  moral  revolt  against  a  deed  which  the  perpetrators 
themselves  already  felt  to  be  of  evil  character,  and  one  which 
they  fain  would  blot  forever  from  public  recollection. 

What  was  to  be  done?  For  the  next  ensuing  Sunday  simi- 
lar demonstrations  were  announced  in  Killarney,  Kilkenny, 
Drogheda,  Ennis,  Clonmel,  Oueenstown,  Youghal,  and  Fermoy 
— the  preparations  in  the  first  named  town  being  under  the 
direction  of,  and  the  procession  to  be  led  by,  a  member  of 
Parliament,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  and  influential  of 
the  Irish  popular  representatives — The  O'Donoghue.  What 
was  to  be  done?     Obviously,  as   the  men  had  been  hanged, 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


351 


there  could  be  \yd  halting  halfway  now.  Having  gone  so  far, 
the  government  seemed  to  feel  that  it  must  needs  go  the  whole 
way,  and  choke  off,  at  all  hazards,  these  inconvenient,  these 
damnatory  public  protests.  No  man  must  be  allowed  to  speak 
the  Unutterable  Words,  which,  like  the  handwriting  on  the 
wall  in  the  banquetting  hall  of  Belshazzar,  seemed  ever  to  be 
appearing  before  the  affrighted  consciences  of  Ireland's  rulers. 
Be  it  right,  or  be  it  wrong,  be  it  justice  or  be  it  murder,  the  act 
must  now  be  upheld — in  fact,  must  not  be  alluded  to.  There 
must  be  silence  by  law,  on  what  had  been  done  beneath  the 
Manchester  gallows-tree. 

But  here  there  presented  itself  a  difficulty.  Before  the  gov- 
ernment had  any  idea  that  the  public  revulsion  would  become 
so  alarmingly  extensive,  the  responsible  ministers  of  the  crown, 
specifically  interrogated  on  the  point,  had,  as  we  have  seen, 
declared  the  funeral  procession  not  to  be  illegal,  and  how,  now, 
could  the  government  interpose  to  prevent  them?  It  certainly 
was  a  difficulty  which  there  was  no  way  of  surmounting,  save 
by  a  proceeding  which  in  any  country  constitutionally  governed 
would  cost  its  chief  authors  their  lives  on  impeachment.  The 
government,  notwithstanding  the  words  of  its  own  responsible 
chiefs — on  the  faith  of  ivJiich  the  Dublin  procession  was  held,  and 
7iumerous  others  were  annoiinced — decided  to  treat  as  illegal  the 
proceedings  they  had  but  a  week  before  declared  to  be  not 
illegal ;  decided  to  prosecute  the  processionists  who  had  acted 
on  the  government  declarations  ;  and  decided  to  prevent,  by 
sabre  and  cannon — by  slaughter,  if  necessary — the  further  pro- 
cessions announced  in  Killarney,  Clonmel,  Kilkenny,  and 
elsewhere  ! 

On  the  evening  of  Thursday,  the  12th  of  December,  Dublin 
city  was  flung  into  the  most  intense  excitement  by  the  issue  of 
the  following  Government  Proclamation  : — 

By  the  Lord-IvIeutenant  and  Council  of  Ireland. 

A  PROCLAMATION. 

Abercorn. 
Whereas,  it  has  been  publicly  announced  that  a  meeting  is  to  assem* 


352 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


ble  in  the  city  of  Kilkoiny^  and  that  a  procession  is  to  take  place  thert 

on  Sunday,  15th  day  of  December  instant  : 

And  whereas,  placards  of  the  said  intended  meeting  and  procession 
have  deen  printed  and  circulated,  stating  that  the  said  intended  pro- 
cession is  to  take  place  in  honor  of  certain  men  lately  executed  in 
Manchester  for  the  crime  of  murder,  and  calling  upon  Irishmen  to 
assemble  in  thousands  for  the  said  procession  : 

And  whereas,  meetings  and  processions  of  large  numbers  of  persons 
have  been  already  held,  and  have  taken  place  in  different  parts  of  the 
United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  under  the  like  pretence, 
at  some  of  which,  and  particularly  at  a  meeting  and  procession  in  the 
city  of  Dublin,  language  of  a  seditious  and  inflammatory  character  has 
been  used,  calculated  to  excite  discontent  and  disaffection  in  the 
minds  of  her  Majesty's  subjects,  and  to  create  ill-will  and  animosity 
amongst  them,  and  to  bring  into  hatred  and  contempt  the  government 
and  constitution  of  the  country  as  by  law  established  : 

And  whereas,  the  said  intended  meeting  and  procession,  and  the  ob- 
jects of  the  persons  to  be  assembled,  and  take  part  therein,  are  not 
legal  or  constitutional,  but  are  calculated  to  bring  into  hatred  and 
contempt  the  govetnment  of  the  United  Kingdom  as  by  law  established, 
and  to  impede  the  administration  of  justice  by  intimidation,  and  the 
demonstration  of  physical  force. 

Now,  we,  the  Lord- Lieutenant  and  General  Governor  of  Ireland, 
by  and  with  the  advice  of  her  Majesty's  Privy  Council  in  Ireland, 
being  satisfied  that  such  meetings  and  processions  as  aforesaid  can 
only  tend  to  serve  the  ends  of  factious,  seditious,  and  traitorous  per- 
sons, and  to  the  violation  of  the  public  peace,  do  hereby  caution  and 
forewarn  all  persons  whomsoever  that  they  do  abstain  from  assembling  at 
any  such  meeting,  and  from  joining  or  taking  part  in  any  such  pro- 
cession. 

And  we  do  hereby  order  and  enjoin  all  magistrates  and  officers  en- 
trusted with  the  preservation  of  the  public  peace,  and  others  whom 
it  may  concern,  to  aid  and  assist  the  execution  of  the  law,  in  prevent- 
ing the  said  intended  meeting  and  procession,  and  in  the  effectual 
suppression  of  the  same. 

Given  at  the  Council  Chamber  in  Dublin,  this  twelfth  day  of  De- 
cember, 1867. 

Richard  C.  Dublin.  R.  Keatinge. 

A.  Brewster,  C.  William  Keogh. 

Mayo.  John  E.  Walsh. 

Strathnairn.  Hedges  Eyre  Chatterton. 

Fred  Shaw.  Robert  R.  W^arren. 

Everybody  knew  what  this  proclamation  meant.  It  plainly 
enough  announced  that  not  only  would  the  further  demonstra* 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  353 

tions  be  prevented,  but  that  the  Dublin  processionists  were  to  feel 
''  the  vengeance  of  the  law"— that  is,  the  vengeance  of  the  Man- 
chester executioners.  Next  day  the  city  was  beset  with  the 
wildest  rumors  as  to  the  arrests  to  be  made,  or  the  prosecu- 
tions  to  be  commenced.  Every  one  seemed  to  conclude,  of 
course,  that  Mr.  John  Martin,  Mr.  A.  M.  Sullivan,  and  the 
Honorary  Secretaries  of  the  Procession  Committee,  were  on 
the  crown  prosecutor's  list ;  but  besides  these  the  names  of 
dozens  of  gentlemen  who  had  been  on  the  committee,  or  who 
had  acted  as  stewards,  marshals,  etc.,  at  the  funeral,  were  like- 
wise mentioned.  On  Saturday  it  became  known  that  late  on 
the  previous  evening  crown  summonses  had  been  served  on 
Mr.  J.  J.  Lalor,  Dr.  J.  C.  Waters,  and  Mr.  James  Scanlan,  re- 
quiring them  to  attend  on  the  following  Tuesday  at  the  Head 
Police  of^ce  to  answer  informations  sworn  against  them  for 
taking  part  in  an  "illegal  procession"  and  a  ''seditious  assem- 
bly." A  summons  had  been  taken  out  also  against  Mr  Martin; 
but  as  he  had  left  Dublin  for  home  on  Friday,  the  police 
officers  proceeded  after  him  to  Kilbroney,  and  ''  served"  him 
there  on  Saturday  evening. 

Beside  and  behind  this  open  move  was  a  secret  Castle  plot  so 
utterly  disreputable  that,  as  we  shall  see,  the  Attorney-Gen- 
eral, startled  by  the  shout  of  universal  execration  which  it 
elicted,  sent  his  ofificial  representative  into  public  court  to  re- 
pudiate it  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and  to  offer  a  public 
apology  to  the  gentlemen  aggrieved  by  it.  The  history  of  that 
scandalous  proceeding  will  appear  in  what  follows. 

On  Monday,  i6th  December,  1867,  the  Head  Police  ofHce, 
Exchange  court,  Dublin,  presented  an  excited  scene.  The 
daily  papers  of  the  day  report  the  proceedings  as  follows  :— 

At  one  o'clock,  the  hour  appointed  by  the  summons,  the  defendants 
attended  in  court,  accompanied  by  their  professional  advisers,  and  a 
number  of  friends,  including  Alderman  Plunkett,  Mr.  Butler,  T.C. ; 
the  Rev.  P.  Langan,  P.P.,  Ardcath  ;  A.  M.  Sullivan,  T.C.  ;  T.  D.  Sul- 
livan, J.  J.  Lalor,  etc.  Mr.  Dix  and  Mr.  Allen,  divisional  magistrates, 
presided.     Mr.  James  Murphy,  Q.C.,  instructed  by  Mr.  Anderson,  re 


354 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


presented  the  crown.  Mr.  Heron,  Q.C.,  and  Mr.  Molloy  appeared  for 
J.  y.  Lalor.  Mr.  Crean  appeared  for  Dr.  Waters.  Mr.  Scallan  ap- 
peared as  solicitor  for  J.  J.  Lalor,  and  for  Dr.  Waters. 

It  was  generally  understood,  on  arrival  at  the  Head  office,  that  the 
cases  would  be  heard  in  the  usual  court  up-stairs,  and,  accordingly, 
the  defendants  and  the  professional  gentlemen  waited  in  the  court  for 
a  considerable  time  after  one  o'clock.  It  was  then  stated  that  the 
magistrates  would  sit  in  another  court  down-stairs,  and  all  the  parties 
moved  towards  tlie  door  for  the  purpose  of  going  there.  Then  another 
arrangement  was  made,  that  the  change  would  not  take  place,  and 
the  parties  concered  thereupon  returned  to  their  places.  But  in  a 
few  minutes  it  was  again  announced  that  the  proceedings  would  be 
ill  the  court  down-stairs.  A  general  movement  was  made  again  by 
defendants,  by  counsel,  by  solicitors,  and  others  towards  that  court, 
but  on  arriving^  at  the  entrances  they  were  guarded  by  detectives  and 
police.  The  benches,  which  ought  to  have  been  reserved  for  the  bar 
and  solicitors,  and  also  for  the  press,  were  occupied  by  detectives,  and 
for  a  considerable  time  great  difficulty  v/as  experienced  in  getting  places. 

Mr.  George  M'Dermott,  barrister,  applied  to  the  magistrates  to  as- 
sign a  place  for  the  members  of  the  bar. 

Mr.  Dix — "  I  don't  know  that  the  bar,  unless  they  are  engaged  in 
the  cases,  have  any  greater  privilege  than  any  one  else.  We  have  a 
wretched  court  here." 

Mr.  M'Dermott  said  the  bar  was  entitled  to  have  room  made  fof 
them  when  it  could  be  done. 

Mr.  W.  L.  Hackett — "All  the  seats  should  not  be  occupied  by 
policemen,  to  the  excluf-:ion  of  the  bar." 

Mr.  Scallan,  solicitor,  who  spoke  from  the  end  of  the  table,  said — ■ 
"Your  worships,  I  am  solicitor  for  one  of  the  traversers,  and  I  cannot 
get  near  my  counsel  to  communicate  with  him.  The  court  is  filled 
with  detectives." 

Mr.  Molloy — "My  solicitor  has  a  right  to  be  here;  I  want  my 
solicitor  to  be  near  me." 

Mr.  Dix — "Certainly;  how  can  men  defend  their  clients  if  they  are 
inconvenienced." 

An  appeal  was  then  made  to  the  detectives  who  occupied  the  side 
bar  behind  the  counsel  to  make  vi^ay. 

Mr.  Murphy,  Q.  C,  said  one  was  a  policeman  who  was  summoned. 

Mr.  Dix — "The  police  have  no  right  to  take  seats." 

The  detectives  then  yielded,  and  the  professional  gentlemen  and 
*.he  reporters  were  accommodated. 

Mr.  Dix  then  called  the  cases. 

Mr.  Molloy — "I  appear  with  Mr.  Heron,  Q.C.,  on  behalf  of  J.  J 
Lalor." 

Mr.  Crean — "I  appear  for  Dr.  Waters." 

Mr.  John  Martin — "  I  appear  on  behalf  of  myself/* 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


355 


Mr.  Crean — "  I  understand  there  is  an  impression  that  Dr.  Waters 
has  been  summoned,  but  he  has  not." 

Mr.  Dix — "  If  he  appears  that  cures  any  defect." 

Mr.  Crean — "  I  appear  on  his  behalf,  but  I  believe  his  personal 
attendance  is  necessary." 

Mr.  Dix — "  Does  any  one  appear  for  Mr.  Scanlan  ?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

Mr.  Murphy,  Q.C— ''  I  ask  whether  Dr.  Waters  and  Mr.  Lalor 
appear  in  court." 

Mr.  MoLLOY — "  My  client,  Mr.  Lalor,  is  in  court." 

Mr.  Crean — ''  I  believe  my  client  is  not  in  court." 

Mr.  Murphy,  Q.C. — "I  will  prove  the  service  of  the  summons 
against  Dr.  Waters.  If  there  is  any  defect  in  the  summons  it  can 
be  remedied.  I  will  not  proceed  against  any  person  who  does  not 
appear." 

Mr.  Dix—"  Am  I  to  take  it  there  is  no  appearance  for  Dr.  Waters 
or  Mr.  Scanlan  ?" 

Mr.  Crean — "I  appear  for  Dr.  Waters.  I  believe  he  is  not  in 
court.  It  was  stated  in  the  newspapers  that  he  was  summoned,  but  I 
am  instructed  that  he  is  not  summoned  at  all." 

Mr.  Murphy,  Q.C,  then  proceeded  in  a  careful  and  precise 
address  to  state  the  case  for  the  crown.  When  he  had  con- 
cluded, and  was  about  calling  evidence,  the  following  singular 
episode  took  place  : — 

Mr.  Dix — "You  only  proceed  against  two  parties?" 

Mr.  Murphy — "  I  shall  only  proceed  against  the  parties  who  attend 
— against  those  who  do  not  attend  I  shall  not  give  evid*encc." 

Mr.  John  Martin — "  If  I  am  in  order  I  would  say,  to  save  the 
time  of  the  court,  and  to  save  the  public  money,  that  I  would  be  very 
glad  to  offer  every  facility  to  the  crown.  I  believe,  sir,  you  (to  Mr. 
Murphy)  are  the  crown  ?" 

Mr.  Murphy — "  I  represent  the  crown." 

Mr.  Martin — "  I  will  offer  every  facility  to  the  crown  for  establish- 
ing the  facts,  both  as  to  my  conduct  and  my  words." 

Mr.  A.  M.  Sullivan — "I^also  will  help  you  to  put  up  some  one, 
as  you  seem  scarce  of  the  accused.    I  have  been  summoned  myself — " 

Mr.  Dix— "Who  are  you?" 

Mr.  Sullivan — "  My  name  is  Alexander  M.  Sullivan,  and^  meaning- 
no  disrespect  to  either  of  the  magistrates,  I  publicly  refuse  even  to 
be  sworn.  I  was  present  at  the  funeral  procession — I  participated  in 
it  openly,  deliberately,  heartily — and  I  denounce  as  a  personal  and 
public  outrage  the  endeavor  to  degrade  the  national  press  of  this 
country  by  attempting  to  place  it  in  the  light  of — " 


358 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


Mr.  Martin — "  I  am  glad  I  have  given  the  representatives  of  the 
crown  an  opportunity  of  making  that  statement.  But  I  cannot  under- 
stand how,  when  the  representatives  of  the  crown  had  the  informa- 
tion, and  when  I  told  the  constables  I  would  attend — as  I  have  done, 
at  great  inconvenience  and  expense  to  myself — I  cannot  understand 
how  a  newspaper  should  come  to  say  I  had  absconded." 

Mr.  Murphy — "  I  cannot  understand  it,  either;  I  can  only  tell  the 
facts  within  my  own  knowledge." 

Mr.  Molloy  said  it  seemed  very  extraordinary  that  witnesses  should 
be  summoned,  and  the  crown  say  they  were  not. 

Mr.  Sullivan  wished  his  summons  to  be  examined.  Did  the  magis- 
trates sign  it  ? 

Mr.  Dix — "  Unless  I  saw  the  original  I  could  not  say." 

Mr.  J.  J.  Lalor — "  Sir  John  Gray  has  been  summoned  as  a  witness, 
too.     It  is  monstrous." 

Sir  John  Gray,  M.P. — "I  wish  to  state  to  your  worship  the  un- 
pleasant circumstances  under  which  I  find  myself  placed.  At  an 
advanced  hour  on  Saturday  I  learned  that  the  crown  intended  to  sum- 
mon as  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  some  of  the  gentlemen  connected 
with  my  establishment.  I  immediately  communicated  with  the  crown 
prosecutor,  and  said  it  was  unfair  towards  these  gentlemen  to  have 
them  placed  in  such  an  odious  position,  and  that  their  refusal  to  act 
as  crown  witnesses  might  subject  them  to  serious  personal  conse- 
quences; I  said  it  would  not  be  right  of  me  to  allow  any  of  the  gen- 
tlemen of  my  establishment  to  subject  themselves  to  the  consequences 
of  such  refusal,  as  I  knew  well  they  would  all  refuse.  I  suggested,  if 
any  unpleasant  consequences  should  follow,  they  should  fall  on  the 
head  of  the  establishment  alone  (applause).  1  said  '  summon  me,  and 
deal  with  me.'  I  am  here  now,  sir,  to  show  my  respect  for  you  per- 
sonally, and  for  this  court;  but  I  wish  to  state  most  distinctly  that  I 
will  never  consent  to  be  examined  as  a  crown  witness  (applause)." 

Mr.  Anderson,  jun.,  here  interposed. 

Sir  John  Gray — "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am  addressing  the  bench, 
and  I  hope  I  won't  be  interrupted.  Some  of  my  family  are  going  to- 
night to  England,  to  spend  the  Christmas  with  my  son.  I  intend  to 
escort  them.  I  will  not  be  here  to-morrow.  I  wish  distinctly  to  state 
so.  If  I  were  here,  my  respect  for  you  and  the  bench,  would  induce 
me  to  be  present,  but  I  would  be  present  only  to  declare  what  I  have 
already  stated,  that  I  would  not  consent  to  be  sworn,  or  to  give  any 
evidence  whatever  in  this  prosecution.  I  think  it  right  to  add  that  I 
attach  no  blame  whatever  to  the  police  authorities  in  this  transaction. 
They  have,  I  am  sure,  preformed  their  duty  in  this  case  with  that 
propriety  w^hich  has  always  characterized  their  conduct.  Neither  do 
I  attach  any  blame  to  the  crown  prosecutor.  I  simply  desire  to  state, 
with  the  most  profound  respect  for  the  bench  and  the  court,  that  I  will 
not  be  a  witness  (loud  applause)." 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN: 


359 


Mr.  Anderson — "  We  don't  intend  to  examine  Sir  John  Gray,  but 
I  wish  to  say  that  if  the  police  believed  any  one  could  give  important 
evidence,  it  is  a  new  proposition  to  me  that  it  is  an  indignity  upon  a 
man  to  summon  him  as  a  crown  witness — " 

Mr.  A.  M.  Sullivan — ''  I  say  it  is  an  indignity,  and  that  the  crown 
solicitor  should  not  seek  to  shift  the  responsibility  on  the  police,  who 
only  do  what  they  are  told." 

Mr.  Anderson — "  I  am  not  trying  to  shift  anything." 

Mr.  SulliVx\n — "You  are.  You  are  trying  to  shift  the  responsi- 
bility of  having  committed  a  gross  indignity  upon  a  member  of  Parlia- 
ment, upon  myself,  and  upon  many  honest  men  here." 

Several  persons  holding  up  summonses,  said  "hear,  hear,"  and 
*'yes." 

Mr.  Sullivan — "  This  I  charge  to  have  been  done  by  Mr.  Ander- 
son as  his  base  revenge  upon  honest  men  who  bade  him  defiance.  Mr. 
Anderson  must  answer  for  his  conduct.  It  is  a  vile  conspiracy — a 
plot  against  honest  men,  who,  here  now,  to  his  face,  tell  him  they  scorn 
and  defy  him  (applause)." 

Mr.  Dix — "  I  adjourn  this  case  till  one  o'clock  to-morrow." 

The  proceedings  were  then  adjourned. 

So  far  have  we  quoted  from  the  Freejuaiis  Journal.  Of  the 
closing  scene,  Saunders  s  News-Letter^  grieving  sorely  over  such 
a  fiasco,  gives  the  following  account : — 

The  adjournment  of  the  court  was  attended  with  a  scene  ot  tumult 
and  disorder  that  was  rarely,  or  never,  witnessed  in  a  police  court,  in 
presence  of  the  magistrates  and  a  large  number  of  police — both  in- 
spectors and  detectives.  The  crowd  of  unwilling  witnesses  who  had 
been  summoned  to  give  evidence  against  the  defendants,  clamorously 
protested  against  being  brought  there  as  crown  witnesses,  avowed  that 
they  were  present  taking  part  in  the  procession,  and  loudly  declared 
that  they  would  not  attend  at  any  subsequent  hearing  of  the  case. 
The  latter  part  of  the  case  indeed  was  marked  with  frequent  interrup- 
tions and  declarations  of  a  similar  kind,  often  very  vociferously  uttered. 
The  proceedings  terminated  amid  the  greatest  and  unchecked  disorder. 

In  plain  words,  "  Scene  I,  Act  I,"  in  what  was  meant  to  be 
a  most  solemn,  awe-inspiring  government  function,  turned  out 
an  unmistakable  farce,  if  not  a  disastrous  break-down.  Even 
the  government  journals  themselves,  without  waiting  for 
"Scene  II,"  (though  coming  off  immediately)  raised  a  shout 
of  condemnation  of  the  discreditable  bungle,  and  demanded 


360 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


that  it  should  be  forthwith  abandoned.  Considering  the  course 
ultimately  taken  by  the  government,  these  utterances  of  the 
government  organs  themselves  have  a  serious  meaning,  and  are 
of  peculiar  importance.  The  ultra-Conservative  Evening  Mail 
(Tuesday,  17th  December)  said;- 

THE  POLICE  COURT  SCENE. 

The  scenes  of  yesterday  in  the  Dublin  police  court  will  cause  an 
astonished  public  to  put  the  question,  is  the  government  insane  ? 
They  suppress  the  processions  one  day,  and  on  the  next  proceed 
with  deliberation  to  destroy  all  possible  effect  from  such  an  act  by  in- 
viting the  magistrates'  court  to  be  used  as  a  platform  from  whence 
a  fresh  roar  of  defiance  may  be  uttered.  The  originators  of  the  sedi- 
tious demonstrations  are  charged  with  having  brought  the  govern- 
ment of  the  kingdom  into  hatred  and  contempt  ;  but  what  step  taken,  or 
word  spoken  or  written,  from  the  date  of  the  first  procession  to  the 
last,  brought  the  government  of  the  kingdom  into  anything  like  the 
"contempt"  into  which  it  plunged  itself  yesterday?  The  prosecutions 
now  instituted  are  in  themselves  an  act  of  utter  weakness.  We  so 
declared  when  we  imagined  that  they  would  be  at  least  rationally 
conducted  ;  but  what  is  to  be  said  now  ?  It  is  literally  impossible  to 
give  any  sane  explanation  of  the  course  taken  in  summoning  as  a 
crown  witness  one  who  must  have  been  known  to  be  prepared  to 
boast  of  his  participation  in  the  procession.  Mr.  Sullivan  boldly 
bearded  the  prosecutors  of  his  brethren.  It  was  a  splendid  opportun- 
ity for  him.  "  I  was  present  (he  said)  at  that  funeral  procession.  I 
participated  in  it,  deliberately  and  heartily.  I  call  this  a  personal 
and  public  outrage,  to  endeavor  to  drag  the  national  press  of  this 
country — "  Timid  and  ineffectual  attempts  were  made  by  the  magis- 
trate to  protect  his  court  and  position  from  insult,  but  Mr.  Sullivan 
had  the  field,  and  would  hold  it.  "  He  might  help  the  crown  to  put 
some  one  else  up,"  he  said,  "as  they  are  scarce,  perhaps,  in  accused." 
The  summoning  of  him  was,  he  resumed,  an  "attempt  to  destroy  the 
national  press,  whose  power  the  crown  feels  and  fears,  but  which 
they  dare  not  prosecute."  Mr.  Sullivan  was  suffered  to  describe  the 
conduct  of  the  town  prosecutors  at  another  stage  as  an  "  infamous 
plot."  The  government  desired  "  to  accomplish  his  imprisonment; 
they  were  willing  to  wound,  but  afraid  to  strike."  "They  knew  (he 
added)  that  they  would  not  get  a  jury  in  all  Ireland  to  agree  to  con- 
vict me  ;  and  I  now  characterize  the  conduct  of  the  crown  as  base 
and  cowardly  !"  Another  Avitness,  in  a  halting  way,  entered  a  like 
protest  against  being  supposed  to  have  sympathy  with  the  crown  in 
the  case  ;  and  the  net  result  was  a  very  remarkable  triumph  for  what 
Mr  Sullivan  calls  the  "  national  press"— -a  title  wholly  misapplied  and 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN 


361 


grossly  abused.     Are  we  to  have  a  succession  of  these      scenes  iij 

court?" 

Saunders  s  News-Letter  of  the  same  date  dealt  with  the  sub- 
ject as  follows :- — 

The  first  step  in  what  appears  to  be  a  very  doubtful  proceeding  was 
taken  yesterday  by  the  law  advisers  of  tlie  cro\\  n.  We  refer  to  the 
prosecutions  instituted  against  the  leaders  and  organizers  of  the 
Fenian  procession  which  took  place  in  this  city  on  Sunday,  the  8th  in- 
stant, in  honor  of  the  memories  of  the  men  executed  at  Manchester 
for  murder.  As  to  the  character  of  that  demonstration  we  never 
entertained  any  doubt.  But  it  mufct  be  remembered  that  similar 
demonstrations  had  taken  place  a  week  previously  in  London,  in  Man- 
chester, and  in  Cork,  and  that  not  only  did  tlie  authorities  not  interfere 
to  prevent  them,  but  that  the  prime  minister  declared  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  that  they  were  not  illegal.  Lord  Derby  doubtless  intended  to  limit 
his  observations  to  the  violation  of  the  Party  Processions  act,  without  pro- 
nouncing any  opinion  as  to  the  legality  or  illegality  of  the  processions, 
viewed  under  another  aspect,  as  seditious  assemblies.  But  his  language 
was  calculated  to  mislead,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  taken  by  the  Fen- 
ian sympathizers  as  an  admission  that  their  mock  funeral  processions  were 
not  unlawful.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,,  therefore,  however  much 
to  be  deplored,  that  the  disaffected  portion  of  the  population  should 
have  eagerly  taken  advantage  of  Lord  Derby's  declarations  to  make  a 
safe  display  of  their  sympathies  and  of  their  strength.  They  were 
encouraged  to  do  so  by  the  toleration  already  extended  towards  their 
fellows  in  England  and  in  Cork,  as  well  as  by  the  statement  of  the 
prime  minister.  Under  these  circumstances  the  prosecution  of  per- 
sons who  took  part  in  the  Dublin  procession,  even  as  organizers 
of  that  proceeding,  appears  to  us  to  be  a  matter  of  doubtful  policy. 
Mr.  John  Martin,  the  leader  of  the  movement,  stands  in  a  different 
position  from  his  companions.  They  confined  themselves*  to  walk- 
ing in  the  procession  ;  he  delivered  an  inflammatory  and  sedi- 
tious speech,  for  which  he  alone  is  responsible,  and  which  might 
have  been  made  the  subject  of  a  separate  proceeding  against 
him.  To  do  Mr.  Martin  justice,  he  showed  no  desire  to  shirk 
the  responsibilty  he  has  incurred.  At  the  police  court,  yesterday,  he 
frankly  avowed  the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  procession,  and  offered 
to  acknowledge  the  speech  which  he  delivered  on  that  occasion.  If, 
however,  the  policy  which  dictated  the  prosecutions  be  questionable, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  at  all  as  to. the  objectionable  manner  in  which 
some  of  the  persons  engaged  in  it  have  acted — as?,uming  the  state- 
ment to  be  true  that  Mr.  Sullivan,  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Nation 
newspaper,  and  Sir  John  Gray,  proprietor  of  the  Freeman  s  Journal, 
have  been  summoned  as  crown  witnesses.     Who  is  responsible  for 


362 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


this  extraordinary  proceeding  it  is  at  present  impossible  to  say.     Mr. 
Murphy,  Q.C.,  the  counsel  for  the  crown,  declared  that  he  did  not  in- 
tend to  examine  Mr.  Sullivan  ;   Mr.  Anderson,  the  son  of  the  crown 
solicitor,  who  appears  to  be  entrusted  with  the  management  of  these 
prosecutions,  denied  that  he  had  directed  the  summonses  to  be  served, 
and   Mr.   Dix,  the  magistrate,  stated  that  he  had  not   signed   them. 
Yet  Mr.  Sullivan  produced  the  summons  requiring  him  to  attend  as  a 
witness,  and  in  the  strongest  manner,  denounced  the  proceeding  as  a 
base  and  cowardly  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  government  to  imprison 
for  contempt  of  court,  a  "national  journalist"  whom  they  dared  not 
prosecute.     Sir  John  Gray,  in  less  violent  language,  complained  of  an 
effort  having  been  made  to  place  some  of  the  gentlemen  in  his  em- 
ployment in  the  "odious  positions  of  crown  witnesses,"  and  stated  that 
he  himself  had  been  subpoenaed,  but  would  decline  to  give  evidence. 
We  have  not  concealed  our  opinion  as  to  the  proper  way  of  dealing 
with  Mr.  Sullivan.     As  the  weekly  disseminator  of  most  exciting  and 
inflammatory  articles,  he  is  doing  much  to  promote  disaffection  and 
encourage  Fenianism.     In  no  otiier  country  in  the  world  would  such 
writing  be  tolerated  for  a  day  ;  and  assuredly  it  ought  not  to  be  per- 
mitted in  Ireland,  in   perilous  and   exciting   times    like  the  present. 
But  if  Mr.  Sullivan  has  offended  against  the  law,  let  him  be  proceeded 
against  boldly,  openly,  and  fairly.     He  has,  we  think,  a  right  to  com- 
plain of  being  summoned  as  a  witness  for  the  crown  ;  but  the  gov- 
ernment have  even  more  reason  to  complain  of  the  conduct  of  their 
servants  in  exposing  them  by  their  blunders  to  ridicule  and  contempt. 
It  is  too  bad  that  with  a  large  and  highly-paid  staff  of  lawyers  and  at- 
torneys the  prosecutions  should  be  conducted  in  a  loose  and  slovenly 
manner.     When  a  state  prosecution  has  been  determined  upon,  every 
step  ought  to  be  carefully  and  anxiously  considered,  and  subordinate 
officials  should  not  be  permitted  by  acts  of  officious  zeal  to  compro- 
mise their  superiors,  and  bring  discredit  on  the  administration  of  the 
law. 

The  Liberal-Conservative  Irish  Times  was  still  more  out- 
spoken : — 

While  all  commend  the  recent  action  of  the  government,  and  give 
the  executive  full  credit  for  the  repression  by  proclamation  of  proces- 
sions avowedly  intended  to  be  protests  against  authority  and  law,  it 
is  generally  regretted  that  prosecutions  should  have  been  instituted 
against  some  of  those  v/ho  had  taken  part  in  these  processions.  Had 
these  menacing  assemblages  been  held  after  the  proclamations  were 
issued,  or  in  defiance  of  the  authorities,  the  utmost  power  should 
have  been  exerted  to  put  them  down,  and  the  terrors  of  the  law  would 
properly  have  been  invoked  to  punish  the  guilty.     But,  bearing  it) 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  363 

mind  the  fact  that  these  processions  had  been  declared  by  the  head 
of  the  government — expressing,  no  doubt,  the  opinion  entertained  at 
that  time  by  the  law  officers  of  the  crown,  that  these  processions 
were  '*not  illegal" — remembering,  too,  that  similar  processions  had 
been  already  held  without  the  slightest  intimation  of  opposition  on 
the  part  of  government  ;  and  recollecting,  also,  that  the  proclamation 
was  everywhere  implicitly  obeyed,  and  without  the  least  wish  to  dis- 
pute it,  we  cannot  avoid  regretting  that  the  government  should  have 
been  advised,  at  the  last  hour,  to  institute  prosecutions  of  such  a  na- 
ture. Once,  however,  it  was  determined  to  vindicate  the  law  in  this 
way,  the  utmost  care  should  have  been  taken  to  maintain  the  dignity 
of  the  proceedings,  and  to  avoid  everything  calculated  to  create  an- 
noyance, irritation,  or  offence.  If  we  except  the  moderate  and  very 
able  speech  of  Mr.  Murphy,  Q.C.,  there  is  no  one  part  of  the  proceed- 
ings in  the  police  court  which  merits  commendation.  Some  of  the 
witnesses  utterly  broke  down  ;  opportunity  was  given  for  utterances 
not  calculated  to  increase  respect  for  the  law  ;  and  disloyal  senti- 
ments were  boldly  expressed  and  cheered  until  the  court  rang  again. 
Great  and  serious  as  was  the  mistake  in  not  obtaining  an  accurate 
legal  opinion  respecting  the  character  of  these  meetings  at  the  first,  and 
then  prohibiting  them,  a  far  greater  mistake  is  now,  we  think,  com- 
mitted in  instituting  these  retrospective  prosecutions.  For  this  mistake 
the  law  officers  of  the  crown  must,  we  infer,  be  held  responsible. 
Were  they  men  of  energy  and  vigor,  with  the  necessary  knowledge 
of  the  world,  they  would  not  have  suffered  the  executive  to  permit 
processions  first,  and  then  prohibit  them,  and  at  the  same  time  try 
men  for  participating  in  what  had  been  pronounced  not  to  be  illegal. 
We  exonerate  the  Attorney-General  from  the  error  of  summoning  to 
igive  evidence  persons  who  openly  gloried  in  the  part  they  had  taken 
m  these  meetings.  To  command  the  presence  of  such  witnesses  was 
of  the  nature  of  an  oft'ence.  There  was  no  ground,  for  instance,  for 
supposing  that  Mr.  Sullivan  would  have  played  the  informer  against 
the  friends  who  had  walked  with  him  in  the  procession — such  is  not 
his  character,  his  feeling,  or  his  sense  of  honor.  The  summoning  of 
those  who  had  moved  with,  and  as  part  of,  the  multitude,  to  give  evi- 
dence against  their  fellows,  was  not  only  a  most  injudicious,  but  a 
futile  expedient,  and  naturally  has  caused  very  great  dissatisfaction 
and  annoyance.  The  circumstance,  however,  proves  that  the  prose- 
cutions were  instituted  without  that  exact  care  and  minute  attention  to 
all  particulars  which  are  necessary  in  a  case  of  this  kind. 

Even  the  Daily  Express,  the  organ  of  the  ultra-Orange  sec- 
tion of  the  Irish  administration,  had  to  own  the  discomfiture  of 
its  patrons : — 

Are  our  police  offices  to  become  a  kind  of  national  journals  court? 


3O4  ^-^^   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

Is  the  "national  press  of  Ireland"  then  and  there  to  bid  for  the  sup 
port  immediately  of  the  gallery,  and  more  remotely  of  that  portion  of 
the  population  which  is  humorously  called  the  Irish  Nation  ?  These 
speculations  are  suggested  by  a  curious  scene  which  took  place  at  the 
inquiry  at  the  police  office  yesterday,  and  which  will  be  found  detailed 
in  another  column.  Mr.  Sullivan,  the  editor  of  the  Natio7i^  seized 
the  opportunity  of  being  summoned  as  a  witness,  to  denounce  the  gov- 
ernment for  not  including  him  in  the  prosecution.  He  complained 
"  of  endeavoring  to  place  the  editor  of  a  national  journal  on  the  list 
of  crown  witnesses  in  this  court  as  a  public  and  personal  indignity," 
and  as  an  endeavor  to  destroy  the  influence  of  the  national  press.  It 
is  certainly  an  open  avowal  to  declare  that  the  mere  placing  of  the 
name  of  the  editor  of  a  ''  national"  journal  upon  the  list  of  crown  wit- 
nesses is  an  unparalleled  wrong.  But  Sir  John  Gray  was  still  more  in- 
structive. From  him  we  learn  that  a  witness  summoned  to  assist  ths 
crown  in  the  prosecution  of  sedition  is  placed  in  an  "  odious  position." 
Odious  it  may  be,  but  in  the  eyes  of  whom  ?  Surely  not  of  any  loyal 
subject  ?  A  paid  informer,  or  professional  spy,  may  be  personally 
odious  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  make  use  of  his  services.  But  we 
have  yet  to  learn  how  a  subject  who  is  summoned  to  come  forward  to 
assist  the  government  fills  an  odious  position  in  the  opinion  of  his 
loyal  fellow-subjects.  We  should  rather  have  supposed  him  to  be 
entitled  to  their  gratitude.  However  that  may  be,  Sir  John  Gray 
came  gallantly  to  the  rescue  of  several  "  gentlemen  connected  with 
his  establishment,"  whom,  he  was  informed,  the  government  intended 
to  summon  as  witnesses.  This,  he  knew,  they  would  all  refuse.  "  I 
suggested,  if  any  unpleasant  consequences  should  follow,  that  they 
should  fall  on  the  head  of  the  establishment  alone."  He  called  upon 
the  authorities  to  summon  him.  We  do  not  complain  of  our  police  courts 
being  made  the  scenes  of  open  avowals  of  determination  to  thwart,  or 
at  least,  not  to  assist  the  government  in  their  endeavors  to  prosecute 
treason  and  sedition.  We  can  imagine  no  principle  on  which  a  sub- 
ject could  object  to  assisting  the  crown  as  a  witness,  which,  if 
followed  to  its  logical  consequences,  would  not  justify  open  rebellion. 
It  is  certainly  a  dangerous  doctrine  to  preach  that  it  is  allowable,  nay, 
even  praiseworthy,  in  a  subject  to  refuse  to  give  evidence  when  called 
upon  to  do  so  by  the  crown.  There  is  a  disposition  too  prevalent  in 
this  country  to  regard  the  law  as  an  enemy,  and  opposition  to  it,  either 
by  passive  obstruction  or  active  rebellion,  as  a  praiseworthy  and 
patriotic  act.  Can  we  wonder  at  this  when  we  hear  opposition  to  con- 
stituted authority  openly  preached  by  the  instructors  of  "the  nation," 
and  witness  the  eagerness  of  the  ''  national  press"  to  free  itself  from 
the  terrible  suspicion  of  coming  to  the  assistance,  even  involuntarily, 
of  the  government  in  its  struggle  with  sedition  and  treason  ? 

It  was  amidst  such  an  outburst  of  vexation  and  indignation 


Wother  ef  Cb^rle.  Stew 


THE    WEARING   OF   THE   GREEN.  365 

as  this,  even  from  the  government  journals  themselves,  that 
the  curtain  rose  next  morning  on  Act  II.  in  the  Head  Police 
office.  A  very  unique  episode  commenced  the  proceedings  on 
this  day  also.  At  the  resumption  of  the  case,  Mr.  Murphy,  Q. 
C,  on  behalf  of  the  crown,  said  : — 

'*  Mr.  Sullivan  and  some  other  gentlemen  complained  yesterday  of 
having  been  served  with  summonses  to  give  evidence  in  those  cases. 
I  am  directed  by  the  Attorney-General  to  state  that  he  regrets  it,  and 
that  it  was  done  without  his  authority.  He  never  gave  any  directions 
to  have  those  persons  summoned,  nor  was  it  done  by  any  one  acting 
under  his  directions.  It  occurred  in  this  way.  General  directions 
were  given  to  the  police  to  summon  parties  to  give  evidence,  in  order 
to  establish  the  charge  against  those  four  gentlemen  who  are  sum- 
moned for  taking  an  active  part  in  the  procession.  The  police,  in  the 
exercise  of  their  discretion  thought  it  might  be  necessary  to  summon 
parties  who  took  part  in  the  procession,  but  there  was  no  intention 
on  the  part  of  those  aiding  on  behalf  of  the  crown  to  summon  parties 
to  give  evidence  who  themselves  took  part  in  the  procession,  and  I  am 
9orry  it  occurred." 

Mr.  Dix — "  I  may  mention  that  a  magistrate  when  signing  a  summons 
knows  nothing  of  the  witnesses.  If  they  were  all  living  in  Jamacia  he 
merely  signs  it  as  a  matter  of  form." 

Mr.  A.  M.Sullivan — "  I  thank  you  worship,  and  Mr.  Murphy, and 
I  think  it  will  be  seen  that  had  your  worship  not  allowed  me  yesterday 
to  make  the  protest  I  did,  the  Attorney-General  would  not  have  the  op- 
portunity of  making  the  disclaimer  which  it  became  the  dignity  of  the 
government  to  make.  The  aspect  of  the  case  yesterday  was  very  ad- 
verse towards  Sir  John  Gray,  myself,  and  other  gentlemen.  Although 
my  brother  signed  his  name  to  the  notice,  he  was  not  summoned  as 
principal  but  as  a  witness,  but  if  necessary  he  was  determined  to  stand 
side  by  side  in  the  dock  with  Mr.  Martin." 

Mr.  Allen — "  I  am  very  glad  of  the  explanation,  because  I  was 
blamed  for  allowing  persons  making  speeches  here  yesterday.  I  think 
if  a  man  has  any  ground  of  complaint  the  sooner  it  is  set  right  the 
better." 

Mr.  Sullivan — "  I  have  to  thank  the  bench." 

Mr.  Allen — "  I  am  glad  that  a  satisfactory  arrangement  has  been 
come  to  by  all  parties,  because  there  is  an  objection  entertained  by 
some  persons  to  be  brought  into  court  as  witnesses  for  the  crown. 

Mr.  Sullivan — "  Especially  a  public  journaHst." 

Mr.  Allen — *'  Quite  so." 

Mr.  Heron  then  proceeded  to  cross-examine  the  witness. 

It  was  elicted  from  the  government  reporter,  that,  by  a  pro* 


366 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEIf, 


cess  which  he  called  *'  throwing  in  the  vowels,"  he  was  able  t^ 
make  Mr.  Martin's  speech  read  sufficiently  seditious.  Mr.  D. 
C.  Heron,  Q.C.,  then  addressed  the  court  on  behalf  of  Mr.  J.  J. 
Lalor ;  and  Mr.  Michael  Crean,  barrister,  on  behalf  of  Dr. 
Waters.   Mr.  Martin,  on  his  own  behalf,  then  spoke  as  follows  : — 

"  I  admit  I  attended  the  procession.  I  admit  also  that  I  spoke  words 
which  I  consider  very  grave  and  serious  words,  upon  that  occasion. 
For  my  acts  on  that  occasion,  for  the  sense  and  intention  of  the  words 
I  spoke  on  that  occasion,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  be  put  upon  my 
country.  Not  only  for  all  my  acts  on  that  occasion — not  only  for  the 
words  which  I  spoke  on  that  occasion  ;  but  for  all  my  acts,  and  all 
the  words  I  ever  spoke  or  wrote,  publicly  or  privately,  upon  Irish  poli- 
tics, I  am  perfectly  willing  to  be  put  upon  my  country.  In  any  free 
country  that  has  real  constitutional  institutions  to  guarantee  the  lib- 
erty of  the  subject — to  guarantee  the  free  trial  of  the  subject  charged 
with  an  offence  against  either  the  state  or  his  neighbor,  it  would  be  quite 
absurd  to  expect  a  man  could  be  put  upon  his  country  and  convicted 
of  a  crinve  for  doing  that,  and  using  such  words  as  the  vast  majority 
of  his  fellow-countrymen  approve.  In  this  case  I  believe  that  a  vast  ma- 
jority of  my  fellow-countrymen  do  not  disapprcrve  of  the  acts  I  ac- 
knowledge on  that  occasion,  and  that  they  sympathize  in  the  sentiment 
of  the  words  I  then  spoke.  Therefore  the  mere  fact  that  a  prosecu- 
tion is  preferred  against  me  for  that  act,  and  for  those  words,  is  evi- 
dence in  my  opinion  that  this  country  does  not  at  present  enjoy  real 
constitutional  institutions,  guaranteeing  a  free  trial — guaranteeing  that 
the  man  accused  shall  be  really  put  upon  his  country.  Because  it  is 
absurd  to  think  that  any  twelve  honest  men,  my  neighbors,  put  upon 
their  oaths,  would  declare  that  to  be  a  crime  which  it  is  probable  that, 
at  least,  four-fifths  of  them  believe  to  be  right — right  both  constitu- 
tionally and  morally.  I  am  aware — we  are  all  aware — that  the  gentle- 
men who  represent  the  crown  in  this  country,  have  very  powerful 
means  at  their  disposal  for  obtaining  convictions  in  the  form  of  law,  and 
in  the  form  of  justice,  of  any  person  they  think  proper  to  accuse  ;  and 
without  meaning  either  to  sneer  or  to  joke  in  this  matter,  I  acknowl- 
edge the  moderation  of  the  gentlemen  who  represent  the  government, 
since  they  chose  to  trouble  themselves  with  me  at  all.  I  acknowledge 
their  moderation  in  proposing  to  indict  me  only  for  sedition,  for  the 
language  which  they  say  I  used,  because  it  is  possible  for  them,  with 
the  means  at  their  disposal,  to  have  me  convicted  for  murder,  or 
burglary,  or  bigamy  (laughter).  I  am  sorrow  to  say  what  seems  like  a 
sneer,  but  I  use  the  words  in  deep  and  solemn  seriousness,  and  I  say 
no  more  than  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  be  tried,  fairly  or  foully  (ap« 
plause  in  court)." 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN,  367 

The  magistrates  reserved  their  decision  till  next  day,  so 
that  there  might  be  decent  and  seemly  pause  for  the  purpose 
of  looking  up  and  pondering  the  legal  precedents,  as  the  legal 
fiction  would  have  it ;  and  on  next  day,  they  announced  that 
they  would  send  all  the  accused  for  trial  to  the  next  Com- 
mission of  Green  Street,  to  open  on  the  loth  of  February,  1868. 
The  several  traversers,  however,  were  required  to  enter 
merely  into  their  own  recognizances  in  £%<x>  each  to  appear 
for  trial. 

In  this  police  court  proceeding  the  government,  confessedly, 
were  morally  worsted — utterly  humiliated,  in  fact.  So  far  from 
creating  awe  or  striking  terror,  the  prosecution  had  evoked 
general  contempt,  scorn,  and  indignation.  To  such  an  ex- 
tent was  this  fact  recognized,  that  the  government  journals 
themselves,  as  we  have  seen,  were  amongst  the  loudest  in  cen- 
suring the  whole  proceeding,  and  in  supporting  the  general  ex- 
pectation that  there  was  an  end  of  the  prosecution. 

Not  so,  however,  was  it  to  be.  The  very  bitterness  of  the 
mortification  inflicted  upon  them  by  their  ''  roll  in  the  dust" 
on  their  first  legal  encounter  with  the  processionists,  seemed 
to  render  the  crown  officials  more  and  more  vindictive.  It  was 
too  galling  to  lie  under  the  public  challenge  hurled  at  them  by 
Mr.  Bracken,  Mr.  O'Reilly,  and  Mr.  Sullivan.  After  twelve 
days'  cogitation,  gvoernment  made  up  its  mind  to  strike. 

On  Saturday,  28th  December,  1867 — just  as  every  one  in  Ire. 
land  seemed  to  have  concluded  that,  as  the  Conservative 
journals  said,  there  was  "an  end  of"  the  foolish  and  ill-advised 
funeral  prosecutions — Mr.  Sullivan,  Mr.  Bracken  (one  of  the 
funeral  stewards),  Mr.  Jennings,  of  Kingstown  (one  of  the 
best  known  and  most  trusted  of  the  nationalists  of  *'  Dun- 
leary  *  district),  Mr.  O'Reilly  (one  of  the  mounted  marshals  at 
the  procession),  and  some  others,  were  served  with  citations  to 
appear  on  Monday,  the  30th,  at  the  Head  Police  office,  to  answer 
charges  identical  with  those  preferred  on  the  i6th  against  Mr, 
Martin,  Dr.  Waters,  and  Mr.  Lalor. 

Preliminary  prosecution  No.  2  very  much  resembled  No.  L 


368 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


Mr.  Murphy,  Q.C.,  stated  the  crown   case  with   fairness  and 

moderation;  and  the  police,  as  before,  gave  their  evidence  like 
men  who  felt '' duty"  and  *' conscience"  in  sore  disagreement 
on  such  an  occasion.  Mr.  Jennings  and  Mr.  O'Rielly  were 
defended,  respectively,  by  Mr.  Molloy  and  Mr.  Crean- — two 
advocates  whose  selection  from  the  Junior  bar  for  these  critical 
and  important  public  cases  was  triumphantly  vindicated  by 
their  conduct  from  the  first  to  the  last  scene  of  the  drama. 
Mr.  Sullivan,  Mr.  Bracken,  and  the  other  accused,  were  not 
represented  by  counsel.  On  the  first-named  gentleman  (Mr, 
Sullivan)  being  formally  called  on,  he  addressed  the  court  at 
some  length.     He  said  : — 

"  Please  your  worships,  had  the  officials  of  the  crown  adopted  to- 
wards me,  in  the  first  instance,  the  course  which  they  have  taken 
upon  the  present  occasion,  and  had  they  not  adopted  the  singular 
course  which  they  pursued  in  my  regard  when  I  last  appeared  in 
this  court,  I  should  trouble  you  with  no  observations.  For,  as  one 
of  the  50,000  persons  who,  on  the  8th  of  December,  in  this  city, 
publicly,  lawfully,  and  peacefully  demonstrated  their  protest  against 
what  they  believed  to  have  been  a  denial  of  law  and  an  outrage  on 
justice,  I  should  certainly  waste  no  public  time  in  this  preliminary 
investigation,  but  rather  admit  the  facts,  as  you  perceive  I  have 
done  to-day,  and  hasten  the  final  decision  on  the  issues  really  knit 
between  us  and  the  crown.  What  was  the  course  adopted  by  the 
crown  in  the  first  instance  against  me  ?  They  had  before  them,  on 
the  9th,  just  as  well  as  on  the  29th — it  is  in  evidence  that  they 
had — the  fact  that  I,  openly  and  publicly,  took  part  in  that  de- 
monstration —  that  sorrowful  and  sad  protest  against  injustice 
(applause).  They  had  before  them  then,  as  much  as  they  had  before 
them  to-day,  or  as  much  as  they  will  ever  have,  affecting  me.  For, 
whatever  course  I  take  in  public  affairs  in  this  country,  I  conceal 
nothing,  I  take  it  publicly,  openly  and  deliberately.  If  I  err,  I  am 
satisfied  to  abide  the  consequences;  and,  whenever  it  may  suit 
the  weathercock  judgment  of  Lord  Mayo,  and  his  vacillating  law 
advisers,  to  characterize  my  acts  or  my  opinion  as  illegal,  seditious 
heretical,  idolatrous,  or  treasonable,  I  must,  like  every  other  sub- 
ject, be  content  to  take  my  chance  of  their  being  able  to  find  a  jury 
sufficiently  facile  or  sufficiently  stupid  to  carry  out  their  behests 
against  me.  But  they  did  not  choose  that  course  at  first.  They 
did  not  summon  me  as  a  principal,  but  they  subpoenaed  me  as  a  wit- 
ness— as  a  crown  witness — against  some  of  my  dearest,  personal, 
and  public  friends.     The  Attorney- General,  whose  word  I  most  full^ 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN,  369 

tnd  frankly  accept  in  the  matter — for  I  would  not  charge  him  with 
being  wanting  in  personal  truthfulness  —  denied  having  had  any 
complicity  in  the  course  of  conduct  pursued  towards  me ;  but 
where  does  he  lay  the  responsibility?  On  'the  police.'  What  is 
the  meaning  of  that  phrase,  'the  police?'  He  surely  does  not 
mean  that  the  members  of  the  force,  who  parade  our  streets,  ex- 
ercise vice-regal  functions  (laughter).  Who  was  this  person  thus 
called  the  '  police  ?'  How  many  degrees  above  or  below  the  At- 
torney-General are  we  to  look  for  this  functionary  described  as  '  the 
police,'  who  has  the  authority  to  have  a  'seditious'  man  —  that 
is  the  allegation  —  a  seJ'tious  man — exempted  from  prosecution  ? 
The  police  cannot  do  tiiat.  Who,  then?  Who  was  he  that  could 
draw  the  line  between  John  Martin  and  his  friend,  A.  M.  Sullivan 
' — exempt  the  one,  prosecute  the  other — summon  the  former  as  a 
defendant,  and  subpoena  tho  latter  as  a  crown  witness  ?  What  was 
the  object?  It  is  plain.  There  are  at  this  moment,  I  am  con- 
vinced— who  doubts  it  ? — tliroughout  Ireland,  as  yet  unfound  out, 
Talbots  and  Corridons  in  the  pay  of  the  crown  acting  as  Fenian  cen- 
tres, who,  next  day,  \\'0iild  receive  from  their  employer's  directions 
to  spread  amongst  my  countrymen  the  intelligence  that  I  had  been 
here  to  betray  my  associate,  John  Martin  (applause).  But  their 
plot  recoiled — their  device  was  exposed;  public  opinion  expressed 
its  "eprobation  of  the  unsuccessful  trick  ;  and  now  they  come  to 
mend  their  hand.  The  men  who  were  exempted  before  are  prose- 
cuted to-day.  Now,  your  worships,  on  this  whole  case — on  this 
entire  procedure — I  deliberately  charge  that  not  we,  but  the  govern- 
ment, have  violated  the  law.  I  charge  that  the  government  are 
well  aware  that  the  law  is  against  them — that  they  are  irresistibly 
driven  upon  this  attempt  to  strain  and  break  the  law  against  the 
constitutional  right  and  liberty  of  the  subject  by  their  me'-e  party 
exigencies  and  necessities." 

He  then  reviewed  at  length  the  bearing  of  the  Party  Pro- 
sessions  act  upon  the  present  case ;  and  next  proceeded  to 
deal  with  the  subject  of  the  Manchester  executions ;  maintain- 
ing that  the  men  were  hanged,  as  were  others  before  them,  in 
like  moments  of  national  passion  and  frenzy,  on  a  false  evidence 
and  a  rotten  verdict.     Mr.  Sullivan  proceeded : — • 

"  It  is  becau  vj  the  people  love  justice  and  abhor  injustice — be- 
cause the  real  crime  of  those  three  victims  is  believed  to  have  been 
devotion  to  native  land — that  the  Catholic  churches  of  Ireland 
resound  with  prayers  and  requiem  hymns,  and  the  public  highways 
were   lined  with   sympathizing   thousands,  until   the  guilty  fears   of 


370 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


the  executioners  proclaimed  it  illegal  to  mo^rn.  Think  you,  sir, 
if  the  crown  view  of  this  matter  were  the  true  one,  would  thd 
Catholic  clergy  of  Ireland — they  who  braved  fierce  and  bitter  un- 
popularity in  reprehending  the  Fenian  conspiracy  at  a  time  when 
Lord  Mayo's  organ  was  patting  it  on  the  back  for  its  'fine  Sardi- 
nian spirit' — would  these  ministers  of  religion  drape  their  churches 
for  three  common  murderers?  I  repel,  as  a  calumnious  and  sut.  !er- 
ous  accusation  against  the  Catholic  clergy  of  Ireland  this  charge,  that 
by  their  mourning  for  those  three  martyred  Irishmen,  they  expressed 
sympathy,  directly  or  indirectly,  with  murder  or  life-taking.  If  an 
act  be  seditious,  it  is  not  the  less  illegal  in  the  church  than  in  the 
graveyard,  or  on  the  road  to  the  cemetery.  Are  we,  then,  to  under- 
stand that  our  churches  are  to  be  invaded  by  bands  of  soldiery, 
and  our  priests  dragged  from  the  altar?,  for  the  seditious  crime  of 
proclaiming  aloud  their  belief  in  the  innocence  of  Allen,  Larkin, 
and  O'Brien  ?  This,  sir,  is  w4iat  depends  on  the  decision  in  this 
case,  here  or  elsewhere.  All  this,  and  more.  It  is  to  be  decided 
whether,  in  their  capacity  of  Privy  Councillors,  the  judges  of  the 
land  shall  put  forth  a  proclamation,  the  legality  or  binding  force  of 
which  they  will  afterwards  sit  as  judges  to  try.  It  is  whether, 
there  being  no  constitution  now  allowed  to  exist  in  the  country, 
there  is  to  be  no  law,  save  what  a  Castle  proclamation  will  con- 
struct, permit,  or  decree;  no  mourning,  save  what  the  police  will 
license  :  no  demonstration  of  opinion,  save  whatever  accords  with 
the  government  views.  We  hear  much  of  the  liberties  enjoyed  in 
this  country.  No  doubt,  we  have  fine  constitutional  rights  and 
securities,  until  the  very  time  they  are  most  required.  When  we 
have  no  need  to  invoke  them,  they  are  permitted  to  us;  but  at  the 
only  time  when  they  might  be  of  substantial  value,  they  are,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  '  suspended.'  Who,  unless  in  times  of  governmental 
panic,  need  apprehend  unwarranted  arrest  ?  When  else  is  the 
habeas  corpus  act  of  such  considerable  protection  to  the  subject? 
When,  unless  when  the  crown  seeks  to  invade  public  liberty,  is  the 
purity  and  integrity  of  trial  by  jury  of  such  value  and  importance 
in  political  cases  ?  Yet  all  the  world  knows  that  the  British 
government,  whenever  such  a  conflict  arises,  juggles  and  packs  the 
\\rrj — " 

Mr.  Dix — "  I  really  cannot  allow  that  language  to  be  used  in  this 
court,  Mr.  Sullivan,  with  every  disposition  to  accord  you,  as  an  ac- 
cused person,  the  amplest  limits  in  your  observations.  Such  language 
goes  beyond  what  I  can  permit — " 

Mr.  Sullivan — "  I  at  once,  in  respect  for  your  worship,  retract  the 
word  juggle.     I  will  say  the  crown  manipulates  the  jury." 

Mr.  Dix — "  I  can't  at  all  allow  this  line  of  comment  to  be  pursued — " 

Mr.  Sullivan — ''  With  all  respect  for  your  worship,  and  while  I  am 
teady  to  use  any  phrase  most  suitable  for  utterance  here,  I  will  not 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


371 


give  up  my  right  to  state  and  proclaim  the  fact,  however  unpalatable^ 
when  it  is  notoriously  true.  I  stand  upon  my  rights  to  say,  that  you 
have  all  the  greater  reason  to  pause,  ere  you  send  me,  or  any  other 
citizen,  for  trial  before  a  jury  in  a  crown  prosecution,  at  a  moment 
like  the  present,  when  trial  by  jury,  as  the  theory  of  the  constitution 
supposes  it,  does  not  exist  in  the  land.  I  say  there  is  now  notoriously 
no  fair  trial  by  jury  to  be  had  in  this  country,  as  between  the  subject 
and  the  crown.  Never  yet,  in  an  important  political  case,  have  the 
government'  in  this  country  dared  to  allow  twelve  men,  indifferently 
chosen,  to  pass  into  the  jury-box  to  try  the  issue  between  the  subject 
and  the  crown.  And  now,  sir,  if  you  send  the  case  for  trial,  and  sup- 
pose government  succeed  by  the  juries  they  are  able  to  impanel  here, 
with  '  Fenian'  ticketed  on  the  backs  of  the  accused  by  the  real  gov- 
ernors of  the  country — the  Heygates  and  the  Briices — and  if  it  is 
declared  by  you,  that  in  this  land  of  mourning  it  has  become  at  last 
criminal  even  to  mourn — what  a  victory  for  the  crown!  Oh,  sir,  they 
have  been  for  years  winning  such  victories,  and  thereby  manufactur- 
ing conspiracies — driving  people  from  the  open  and  legitimate  ex- 
pressions of  their  sentiments  into  corners  to  conspire  and  to  hide. 
I  stand  here  as  a  man  against  whom  some  clamor  has  been  raised  for 
my  efforts  to  save  m.y  countrymen  from  the  courses  into  which  the  gov- 
ernment conduct  has  been  driving  them,  and  I  say  that  there  is  no 
more  revolutionary  agent  in  the  land  than  that  persecution  of  author- 
ity which  says  to  the  people,  '  When  we  strike  you,  we  forbid  you  to 
weep.'  We  meet  the  crown,  foot  to  foot,  on  its  case  here.  We  say 
we  have  committed  no  offence,  but  that  the  prosecution  against  us 
has  been  instituted  to  subserve  their  party  exigencies,  and  that  the 
government  is  straining  and  violating  the  law.  We  challenge 
them  to  the  issue,  and  even  should  they  succeed  in  obtaining  from  a 
crown  jury  a  verdict  against  us,  we  have  a  wider  tribunal  to  appeal 
to — the  decision  of  our  own  consciences,  and  the  judgment  of  hu- 
manity (applause)." 

Mr.  Murphy,  Q.C.,  briefly  replied.  *' He  asked  his  worship  not  to 
decide  that  the  procession  was  illegal,  but  that  this  case  was  one  for  a 
court  of  law  and  a  jury." 

On  this  occasion  it  v/as  unnecessary  for  Mr.  Dix  to  take  any 
"time  to  consider  his  decision."  All  the  accused  were  bound 
over  in  their  own  recognizances  to  stand  their  trials  at  the  forth- 
coming Commission  in  Green  Street  court,  on  the  loth  of 
February,  1868. 

The  plunge  which  the  crown  officials  had  shivered  so  long 
before  attempting  had  now  been  taken,  and  they  determined 
to  go  through  with  the  work,  a  Voutrmice,     In  the  interval  be* 


372 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


tween  the  last  police  court  scene  described  above,  and  the 
opening  of  the  Green  Street  Commission,  in  February,  1868, 
prosecutions  were  directly  commenced  against  the  Irishman 
and  the  Weekly  Neivs  for  seditious  writing.  In  the  case  of  the 
former  journal,  the  proprietor  tried  some  skilfully-devised  pre- 
paratory legal  moves  and  manoeuvers,  not  one  of  which  of 
course  succeeded,  though  their  justice  and  legality  were  appar- 
ent enough.  In  the  case  of  the  latter  journal — the  Weekly 
News — the  proprietor  raised  no  legal  point  whatsoever.  The 
fact  was  that  when  he  found  the  crown,  not  content  with  one 
state  prosecution  against  him  (that  for  the  funeral  proces- 
sion), coming  upon  him  with  a  second,  he  knew  his  doom  was 
sealed.  He  very  correctly  judged  that  legal  moves  would  be 
all  in  vain — that  his  conviction,  per  fas  aut  7ie  faSy  was  to  be 
obtained — that  a  jury  would  be  packed  against  him — and  that 
consequently  the  briefest  and  most  dignified  course  for  him 
would  be  to  go  straight  to  the  conflict  and  meet  it  boldly. 

On    Monday,  loth    of   February,  1868,  the  Commission  was 
opened  in  Green  Street,  Dublin,  before  Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald 
and  Baron  Deasey.     Soon  a  cunning  and  unworthy  legal  trick 
on  the  part  of  the  crown  was  revealed.     The  prosecuted  pro- 
cessionists and  journalists  had  been  indicted  in  the  city  venue, 
had  been  returned  for  trial  to   the  city  commission  by  a  city 
jury.     But  the  government  at  the  last   moment  mistrusted  a 
city  jury  in  this  instance — even  3.  packed  city  jury — and  without 
any  notice  to  the  traversers,  sent  the  indictments  before  the 
county  grand  jury,  so  that  they  might  be  tried  by  a  jury  picked 
and  packed  from  the  anti-Irish  oligarchy  of  the  Pale.     It  was 
an    act    of    gross    illegality,    hardship,    and    oppression.      The 
illegality  of  such  a  course  had  been  ruled  and  decided  in  the 
case  of  Mr.  Gavan  Duffy  in    i8j.8.     But  the  point  was  raised 
vainly  now.     When  Mr.  Pigott,  of  the  Irishman,  was  called  to 
plead,  his  counsel  (Mr.  Heron,  Q.C.)  insisted  that  he,  the  trav- 
erser, was  now  in  custody  of  the  city  sheriff  in  accordance  with 
his  recognizances,  and  could  not  without  legal  process  be  re- 
moved to  the  county  venue.     An  exciting  encounter  ensued 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


373 


between  Mr.  Heron  and  the  crown  counsel,  and  the  court  took 
till  next  day  to  decide  the  point.  Next  morning  it  was  de- 
cided  in  favor  of  the  crown,  and  Mr.  Pigott  was  about  being 
arraigned,  when,  in  order  that  he  might  not  be  prejudiced  by 
having  attended  pending  the  decision,  the  Attorney-General 
said,  *'  he  would  shut  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  that  gentleman 
was  now  in  court,"  and  would  have  him  called  immediately — 
an  intimation  that  Mr.  Pigott  might,  if  advised,  try  the  course 
of  refusing  to  appear.  He  did  so  refuse.  When  next  called, 
Mr.  Pigott  was  not  forthcoming,  and  on  the  police  proceeding 
to  his  office  and  residence  that  gentleman  was  not  to  be  found 
— having,  as  the  Attorney-General  spitefully  expressed  it,  "  fled 
from  justice."  Mr.  Sullivan's  case,  had,  of  necessity,  then  to 
be  called ;  and  this  was  exactly  what  the  crown  had  desired  to 
avoid,  and  what  Mr.  Heron  had  aimed  to  secure.  It  was  the 
secret  of  all  the  skirmishing.  A  very  general  impression  pre- 
vailed  that  the  crown  would  fail  in  getting  a  jury  to  convict 
Mr.  Sullivan  on  any  indictiment  tinctured  even  ever  so 
faintly  with  ''  Fenianism ; "  and  it  was  deemed  of  great  import- 
ance to  Mr.  Pigott's  case  to  force  the  crown  to  begin  with  the 
one  in  which  failure  was  expected — Mr.  Sullivan  having  inti- 
mated his  perfect  willingness  to  be  either  pushed  to  the  front 
or  kept  to  the  last,  according  as  might  best  promise  to  secure 
the  discomfiture  of  the  government.  Mr.  Heron  had  there- 
fore so  far  outmanoeuvered  the  crown.  Mr.  Sullivan  appeared 
in  court,  and  announced  himself  ready  for  trial,  and  the  next 
morning  was  fixed  for  his  arraignment.  Up  to  this  moment, 
that  gentleman  had  expressed  his  determination  not  only  to 
discard  legal  points,  but  to  decline  ordinary  professional  de- 
fence, and  to  address  the  jury  in  his  own  behalf.  Now,  how- 
ever, deferring  to  considerations  strongly  pressed  on  him  (set 
forth  in  his  speech  to  the  jury  in  the  funeral  procession  case), 
he  relinquished  his  resolution  ;  and,  late  on  the  night  preced- 
ing his  trial,  entrusted  to  Mr.  Heron,  Q.C.,  Mr.  Crean,  and  Mi. 
Molloy,  his  defence  on  this  first  prosecution. 
Next  morning,  Saturday,  isth   of  February.  lB68.  th.»  trial' 


5>74  ^^^   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

commenced;  a  jury  was  duly  packed  by  the  "stand-by"  pro. 
cess,  and  notwithstanding  a  charge  by  Justice  Fitzgerald,  which 
was,  on  the  whole,  one  of  the  fairest  heard  in  Ireland  in  a 
political  case  for  many  years,  Mr.  Sullivan  was  duly  convicted 
of  having,  by  pictures  and  writings  in  his  journal,  the  Weekly 
News,  seditiously  brought  the  crown  and  government  into 
hatred  and  contempt. 

The  government  officials  were  jubilant.  Kr.  Pigott  was  next 
arraigned,  and  after  an  exceedingly  able  defence  by  Mr.  Heron, 
was  likewise  convicted. 

It  was  now  very  generally  concluded  that  the  government 
would  be  satisfied  with  these  convictions,  and  would  not  pro- 
ceed with  the  funeral  procession  cases.  At  all  events,  it  was 
universally  regarded  as  certain  that  Mr.  Sullivan  would  not  be 
arraigned  on  the  second  or  funeral  procession  indictment,  as  he 
now  stood  convicted  on  the  other — the  pres<^  charge.  But  it 
was  not  to  be  so.  Elate  with  their  success,  the  crown  officials 
thought  they  might  even  discard  their  doubts  of  a  city  jury; 
and  on  Thursday  morning,  20th  of  February,  1868,  John  Mar- 
tin, Alexander  M.  Sullivan,  Thomas  Bracken,  and  J.  J.  Lalor,^ 
were  formally  arraigned  in  the  city  venue. 

It  was  a  scene  to  be  long  remembered,  that  which  was  pre- 
sented in  the  Green  Street  Court-house  on  that  Thursday 
morning.  The  dogged  vindictiveness  of  the  crown  officials,  in 
persisting  with  the  second  prosecution,  seemed  to  have  excited 
intense  feeling  throughout  the  city,  and  long  before  the  pro- 
ceedings opened,  the  court  was  crowded  in  every  part  with 
anxious  spectators.  When  Mr.  Martin  entered,  accompanied  by 
his  brother-in-law.  Dr.  Simpson,  and  Mr.  Ross  Todd,  and  took 
his  seat  at  the  traversers'  bar,  a  low  murmur  of  respectful  sym- 
pathy, amounting  to  applause,  ran  through  the  building.  And 
surely  it  was  a  sight  to  move  the  heart  to  see  this  patriot — 
this  man  of  pure  and  stainless  life,  this  man  of  exalted  charac- 


*  Dr.  Waters,  in  the  interval  since  his  committal  on  this  charge,  had  been  arrested,  and 
was  now  imprisoned,  under  the  suspension  of  the  habeas  corpus  act.  He  was  not  brought 
U>  trial  on  the  procession  charjfe 


THE    WEARING  OF   THE  GREEN,  375 

ter,  of  noble  soul,  and  glorious  principles — standing  once  more 
in  that  spot  where  twenty  years  before  he  stood,  confronting 
the  same  foe  in  the  same  righteous  and  holy  cause — standing 
once  more  at  that  bar  whence,  twenty  years  before,  he  was  led 
off  manacled  to  a  felon's  doom  for  the  crime  of  loving  Ireland ! 
Many  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  interval,  but  over  the 
stern  integrity  of  his  soul  time  had  wrought  no  change.  He 
himself  seemed  to  recall  at  this  moment  his  last  ''trial"  scene 
on  this  spot,  and,  as  he  cast  his  gaze  around,  one  could  detect 
on  his  calm,  thoughtful  face  something  of  sadness, yet  of  pride, 
as  memory  doubtless  pictured  the  spectacle  of  twenty  years 
ago. 

Mr.  Sullivan,  Mr.  Bracken,  and  Mr.  Lalor,  arrived  soon  after, 
and  immediately  the  judges  appeared  on  the  bench  the  pro- 
ceedings began. 

On  their  lordships,  Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  and  Mr.  Baron  Deascy 

taking  their  seats  upon  the  bench, 

Mr.  Smartt  (^deputy  clerk  of  the  crown)  called  upon  John  Martin, 
Alexander  M.  Sullivan,  James  J.  Lalor,  and  Thomas  Bracken,  to  come 
and  appear  as  they  were  bound  to  do  in  discharge  of  their  recogniz- 
ances. 

All  the  traversers  answered. 

Mr.  Smartt  then  proceeded  to  arraign  the  traversers  under  an  in- 
dictment charging  in  the  first  count — "That  John  Martin,  John  C. 
Waters,  James  J.  Lalor,  Alexander  M.  Sullivan,  and  Thomas  Bracken, 
being  malicious,  seditious,  and  ill-disposed  persons,  and  intending  to 
disturb  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  the  realm,  and  to  excite  discon- 
tent and  disaffection,  and  to  excite  the  subjects  of  our  Lady  the  Queen 
in  Ireland  to  hatred  and  dislike  of  the  government,  the  laws,  and  the 
administration  of  the  laws  of  this  realm,  on  the  8th  day  of  December, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1867,  unlawfully  did  assemble  and  meet  to- 
gether with  divers  other  persons,  amounting  to  a  large  number — to 
wit,  fifteen  thousand  persons — for  the  purpose  of  exciting  discontent 
and  disaffection,  and  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  her  Majesty's  sub- 
jects in  Ireland  to  hatred  of  her  government  and  the  laws  of  this  realm, 
in  contempt  of  our  Lady  the  Queen,  in  open  violation  of  the  laws  of 
this  realm,  and  against  the  peace  of  our  Lady  the  Queen,  her  crown 
and  dignity."  The  second  count  charged  that  the  defendants  intend- 
ed "to  cause  it  to  be  believed  that  the  three  men  who  had  been  duly 
tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced,  according  to  law,  for  murder,  at 
Manchester,  in  England,  had  been  illegally  and  unjustly  executed ; 


376  THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEI^. 

and  to  excite  hatred,  dislike,  and  disaffection  against  the  administra- 
tion of  justice,  and  the  ]a\vs  of  this  reahii,  for  and  in  reipect  of  the 
execution  of  the  said  three  men."  A  third  count  charged  the  publica- 
tion at  the  unlawful  assembly  laid  in  the  first  and  second  counts  of 
the  false  and  seditious  words  contained  in  Mr.  John  Martin's  speech, 
A  fourth  and  last  count  was  framed  under  the  Party  Processions'  act, 
and  charged  that  the  defendants  'Mid  unlawfully  meet,  assemble,  and 
parade  together,  and  were  present  at  and  did  join  in  a  procession  with 
divers  others,  and  did  bear,  wear,  and  have  amongst  them  in  said  pro- 
cession certain  emblems  and  symbols,  the  display  whereof  was  calcu- 
lated to  and  did  tend  to  provoke  animosity  between  different  classes 
of  her  Majesty's  subjects,  against  the  form  of  the  statute  in  such  case 
made  and  provided,  and  against  the  peace  of  our  Lady  the  Queen, 
her  crown  and  dignity." 

The  traversers  severally  pleaded  not  guilty. 

The  Attorney-General,  the  Solicitor-General,  Dr.  Ball,  Q.C.;  Mr. 
Charles  Shaw,  Q.C.;  Mr.  James  Murphy,  Q.  C;  Mr.  R.  H.  Owen, 
Q.C.;  and  Mr.  Edward  Beytagh,  instructed  by  Mr.  Anderson,  Crown 
Solicitor,  appeared  to  prosecute. 

Mr.  Martin,  Mr.  Sullivan,  and  Mr.  Bracken  were  not  professionally 
assisted. 

Mr.  Michael  T.  Crean,  instructed  by  Mr.  John  T.  Scallan,  ap- 
peared for  Mr.  Lalor. 

And  now  came  the  critical  stage  of  the  case.  Would  the 
crown  pack  the  jury?  The  clerk  of  the  crown  began  to  call  the 
panel,  when — 

John  Keagan,  was  called  and  ordered  to  stand  by  on  the  part  of  the 
crown. 

Mr.  Sullivan — My  lord,  have  I  any  right  to  challenge  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald — You  have,  Mr.  Sullivan,  for  cause. 

Mr.  Sullivan — And  can  the  crown  order  a  juror  to  stand  by 
without  a  cause  assigned  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald — The  crown  has  a  right  to  exercise  that 
privilege. 

Mr.  Sullivan — Well,  I  will  exercise  no  challenge,  for  cause,  or 
without  cause.     Let  the  crown  select  a  jury  now  as  it  pleases. 

Subsequently  George  M'Cartney  was  called,  and  directed  to  stand 
by. 

Patrick  Ryan  was  also  ordered  to  stand  by. 

Mr.  Martin — I  protest  against  this  manner  of  selecting  a  jury, 
I  do  so  publicly. 

J.  J.  Lalor— I  also  protest  against  it. 

Thomas  Bracken — And  I  also. 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  377 

The  sensation  produced  by  this  scene  embarrassed  the  crown 
officials  not  a  little.  It  dragged  to  light  the  true  charactei 
of  their  proceeding.  Eventually  the  following  twelve  gentle- 
men were  suffered  by  the  crown  to  pass  into  the  box  as  a 
''jury"* 

Samuel  Eakens,  Foreman.  Joseph  Purser. 

William  Downes  Griffith.  Thomas  Paul. 

Edward  Gatchell.  James  Reilly. 

Thomas  Maxwell  Hutton.  John  George  Shiels. 

Maurice  Kerr.  William  O'Brien  Smyth. 

William  Longfield.  George  Walsh. 

The  Solicitor-General,  Mr.  Harrison,  stated  the  case  for 
the  prosecution.  Next  the  police  repeated  their  evidence—^ 
their  description  of  the  procession — as  given  before  the  magis- 
trates, and  the  government  short-hand  writer  proved  Mr. 
Martin's  speech.  The  only  witnesses  now  produced  who  had 
not  testified  at  the  preliminary  stage  were  a  Manchester 
policeman  named  Seth  Bromley,  who  had  been  one  of  the  van 
escort  on  the  day  of  the  rescue,  and  the  degraded  and  infam- 
ous crown  spy,  Corridon.  The  former — eager  as  a  beagle  on 
the  scent  to  run  down  the  prey  before  him — left  the  table 
amidst  murmurs  of  derision  and  indignation  evoked  by  his 
over-eagerness  on  his  direct  examination,  and  his  "fencing" 
and  evasion  on  cross-examination.  The  spy  Corridon  was 
produced  ''to  prove  the  existence  of  the  Fenian  conspiracy." 
Little  notice  was  taken  of  him.  Mr.  Crean  asked  him  barely 
a  trival  question  or  two.  Mr.  Martin  and  Mr.  Sullivan,  when 
asked  if  they  desired  to  cross-examine  him,  replied  silently  by 
gestures  of  loathing  ;  and  the  wretch  left  the  table— crawled 
from  it — like  a  crippled  murderer  from  the  scene  of  his  crime. 

This  closed  the  case  for  the  crown,  and  Mr.  Crean,  counsel 
for  Mr.  Lalor,  rose  to  address  the  jury  on  behalf  of  his  client. 
His  speech  was  argumentative,  terse,  forcible,  and  eloquent; 
and  seemed  to  please  and  astonish  not  only  the  auditors,  but 


*  Not  one  Catholic  was  allowed  to  pass  into  the  box.     Every  Catholic  who  came  to  the 
tox  was  ordered  to  ^^ stand  by." 


378 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


the  judges  themselves,  who  evidently  had  not  looked  for  so 
much  ability  and  vigor  in  the  young  advocate  before  them. 
Although  the  speeches  of  professional  advocates  do  not  come 
within  the  scope  of  this  publication,  Mr.  Crean's  vindication 
of  the  national  color  of  Ireland — probably  the  most  telling 
passage  in  his  address — has  an  importance  which  warrants  its 
quotation  here : — 

''  Gentlemen,  it  is  attempted  in  this  case  to  make  the  traversers 
amenable  under  the  Party  Processions  act,  because  those  in  the  pro- 
cession wore  green  ribbons.  Gentlemen,  this  is  the  first  time,  in 
the  history  of  Irish  state  prosecutions  which  mark  the  periods  of 
gloom  and  peril  in  this  country,  that  the  wearing  of  a  green  rib- 
bon has  been  formally  indicted  ;  and  I  may  say  it  is  no  good  sign 
of  the  times  that  an  offence  which  has  been  hitherto  unknown  to 
the  law  should  now  crop  up  for  the  first  time  in  this  year  of  grace, 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  sixty-eight.  Not  even  in  the 
worst  d'lys  of  Lord  Castlereagh's  ill-omened  regime  was  such  an 
attempt  as  this  made  to  degrade  the  green  of  Ireland  into  a  party 
color,  and  to  make  that  which  has  long  been  regarded  as  a  na- 
tional emblem  the  symbol  of  a  faction.  Gentlemen,  there  is  no 
right-minded  or  right-hearted  man — looking  back  on  the  ruinous  dis- 
sensions and  bitter  conflicts  which  have  been  the  curse  and  bane  of 
this  country — who  will  not  reprobate  any  effort  to  revive  and  perpetu- 
ate them.  There  is  no  well-disposed  man  in  the  community  who 
will  not  condemn  and  crush  those  persons — no  matter  on  what  side 
they  may  stand — who  make  religion,  which  should  be  the  fountain 
and  mother  of  all  peace  and  blessings,  the  cause  of  rancor  and  ani- 
mosity. We  have  had,  unhappily,  gentlemen,  too  much  of  this  in  Ire- 
land. We  have  been  too  long  the  victims  of  that  wayward  fate,  of 
which  the  poet  wrote,  when  he  said  : — 

**  '  Whilst  our  tyrants  join  in  hate. 
We  never  joined  in  love.' 

"  But,  gentlemen,  I  will  ask  of  you  if  you  ever  before  heard,  until  this 
time,  that  the  green  of  Ireland  was  the  peculiar  color  of  any  particular 
sect,  creed,  or  faction,  or  that  any  of  the  people  of  this  country  wore 
it  as  the  peculiar  emblem  of  their  party,  and  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
annoyance  and  of  offering  insult  to  some  other  portion  of  their  fellow- 
countrymen.  I  must  say  that  I  never  heard  before  that  Catholic,  or 
Protestant,  or  Quaker,  or  Moravian,  laid  claim  to  this  color  as  a  sym- 
bol of  party.  I  thought  all  Irishmen,  no  matter  Avhat  altar  they 
bowed  before,  regarded  the  green  as  the  national  color  of  Ireland. 
If  it  is  illegal  to  wear  the  ^reen,  all  I  can  say  is  that  the   c  onstabulary 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


379 


are  guilty  of  a  constant  and  continuing  breach  of  the  law.  The  Lord 
and  Lady  Lieutenant  will  probably  appear  on  next  Patrick's  Day, 
decorated  with  large  bunches  of  green  shamrock.  Many  of  the  high- 
est officials  of  the  government  will  do  the  same  ;  and  is  it  to  be 
thought  for  one  moment  that  they,  by  wearing  this  green  emblem  of 
Ireland,  and  of  Irish  nationality,  are  violating  the  law  of  the  land? 
Gentlemen,  it  is  perfectly  absurd  to  think  so.  I  hope  this  country 
has  not  yet  so  fallen  as  that  li  has  become  a  crime  to  wear  the  green. 
I  trust  we  have  not  yet  come  to  that  pass  of  national  degradation,  that 
a  jury  of  Irishmen  can  be  found  so  forgetful  of  their  country's  dig- 
nity, and  of  their  own,  as  to  brand  with  a  mark  of  infamy  a  color  which  is 
associated  with  so  many  recollections,  not  of  party  triumphs,  but  of 
national  glories — not  with  any  sect,  or  creed,  or  party,  but  with  a  na- 
tion and  a  race  whose  children,  whether  they  were  the  exiled  soldiers 
of  a  foreign  state,  or  the  soldiers  of  Great  Britain — whether  at  Fon- 
tenoy,  or  on  the  plains  of  Waterloo,  or  on  the  heights  of  Fredericks- 
burg, have  nobly  vindicated  the  chivalry  and  fame  of  Ireland  !  It  is 
for  them  that  the  green  has  its  true  meaning.  It  is  to  the  Irishman 
in  a  distant  land  this  emblem  is  so  dear,  for  it  is  entwined  in  his  mem- 
ory, not  with  any  miserable  faction,  but  with  the  home  and  the 
country  which  gave  him  birth.  I  do  hope  that  Irishmen  will  never  be 
ashamed  in  this  country  to  wear  the  green,  and  I  hope  an  attempt 
will  never  again  be  made  in  an  Irish  court  of  justice  to  punish  Irish- 
men for  wearing  that  which  is  a  national  color,  and  of  which  every 
man  who  values  his  country  should  feel  proud." 

When  Mr.  Crean  resumed  his  seat — which  he  did  anaidst 
strong  manifestations  of  applause — it  was  past  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon.  It  was  not  expected  that  the  case  would  have 
proceeded  so  far  by  that  hour,  and  Mr.  Martin  and  Mr.  Sulli- 
van, who  intended  each  to  speak  in  his  own  behalf,  did  not  ex- 
pect to  rise  for  that  purpose  before  next  day,  when  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  Mr.  Martin  would  speak  first,  and  Mr.  Sullivan 
follow  him.  Now,  however,  it  was  necessary  some  one  of 
them  should  rise  to  his  defence,  and  Mr.  Martin  urged  that  Mn 
Sullivan  should  begin. 

By  this  time  the  attendance  in  court,  which,  during  the  Solici- 
tor-General's speech  and  the  crown  evidence,  thinned  down 
considerably,  had  once  more  grown  too  great  for  the  fair  ca- 
pacity of  the  building.  There  was  a  crush  within,  and  a  crowd 
without.  When  Mr.  Sullivan  was  seen  to  rise,  after  a  mo4 
ment's  hurried  coaaultation  with  Mr.  Martin,  who  sat  beside 


38o 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


him,  there  was  a  buzz,  followed  by  an  anxious  silence.  For  a 
moment  the  accused  paused,  almost  overcome  (as  well  he  might 
have  been)  by  a  sense  of  the  responsibility  of  this  novel  and 
dangerous  course.  But  he  quickly  addressed  himself  to  the 
critical  task  he  had  undertaken,  and  spoke  as  follows: — '^ 

"  My  Lords,  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury, — I  rise  to  address  you 
under  circumstances  of  embarassment  which  will,  I  hope,  secure  for 
me  a  little  consideration  and  indulgence  at  your  hands.  I  have  to  ask 
you  at  the  outset,  to  banish  any  prejudice  that  might  arise  in  your 
minds  against  a  man  who  adopts  the  singular  course — who  undertakes 
the  se^^ious  responsibility — of  pleading  his  own  defence.  Such  a  pro- 
ceeding might  be  thought  t®  be  dictated  either  by  disparagement  of 
the  ordinary  legal  advocacy,  by  some  poor  idea  of  personal  vanity, 
or  by  «'ay  of  reflection  on  the  tribunal  before  which  the  de- 
fence is  made.  My  conduct  is  dictated  by  neither  of  these  con- 
siderations or  influences.  Last  of  all  men  living  should  I  reflect  upon 
the  ability,  zeal,  and  fidelity  of  the  bar  of  Ireland,  represented  as  it 
has  been  in  my  own  behalf  within  the  past  two  days  by  a  man  whose 
heart  and  genius  are,  thank  God,  still  left  to  the  service  of  our  country, 
and  represented,  too,  as  it  has  been  here  this  day  by  that  gifted  young 
advocate,  the  echoes  of  whose  eloquence  still  resound  in  this  court, 
and  place  me  at  a  disadvantage  in  immediately  following  him.  And 
assuredly  I  design  no  disrespect  to  this  court;  either  to  the  tribunal  in 
the  abstract,  or  to  the  individual  judges  who  preside;  from  one  of 
whom  I  heard  two  days  ago  delivered  in  my  own  case  a  charge  of 
which  I  shall  say — though  followed  by  a  verdict  which  already  con- 
signs me  to  a  prison — that  it  was,  judging  it  as  a  whole,  the  fairest, 
the  clearest,  the  most  just  and  impartial  ever  given,  to  my  knowledge, 
in  a  political  case  of  this  kind  in  Ireland,  between  the  subject  and  the 
crown.  No;  I  stand  here  in  my  own  defence  to-day,  because  long 
since  I  formed  the  opinion,  that  on  many  grounds,  in  such  a  prosecution 
as  this,  such  a  course  would  be  the  most  fair  and  most  consistent  for 
a  man  like  me.  That  resolution  I  was,  for  the  sake  of  others,  induced 
to  depart  from  on  Saturday  last,  in  the  first  prosecution  against  me. 
When  it  came  to  be  seen  that  I  was  the  first  to  be  tried  out  of  two 
journalists  prosecuted,  it  was  strongly  urged  on  me  that  my  course, 
and  the  result  of  my  trial,  might  largely  affect  the  case  of  the  other 
journalist  to  be  tried  after  me  ;  and  that  I  ought  to  waive  my  individ- 


*  As  Mr.  Sullivan  delivered  this  speech  without  even  the  ordinary  assistance  of  writ- 
ten notes  or  memoranda,  the  report  here  quoted  is  that  which  was  published  in  the 
newspapers  of  the  time.  Some  few  inaccuracies  which  he  was  precluded  from  correct- 
ing then  (being  a  prisoner  when  this  speech  was  first  pubUshed),  have  been  corrected 
for  this  publication. 


THE    WEARING  OF   THE  GREEN.  38 1 

ual  views  and  feelings,  and  have  the  utmost  legal  ability  brought  to 
bear  in  behalf  of  the  case  of  the  national  press,  at  the  first  point  ol 
conflict.  I  did  so.  I  was  defended  by  a  bar  not  to  be  surpassed  in 
the  kingdom  for  ability  and  earnest  zeal  ;  yet  the  result  was  what  I 
anticipated.  For  I  knew,  so  I  had  held  all  along,  that  in  a  case  like 
this,  where  law  and  fact  are  left  to  the  jury,  legal  ability  is  of  no  avail 
if  the  crown  comes  in  with  its  arbitrary  power  of  moulding  the  jury. 
In  that  case,  as  in  this  one,  I  openly,  publicly,  and  distinctly  an- 
nounced that  I,  for  my  part,  would  challenge  no  one,  whether  with 
cause,  or  without  cause.  Yet  the  crown — in  the  face  of  this  fact — and  in 
a  case  where  they  knew  that  at  least  the  accused  had  no  like  power  of 
peremptory  challenge — did  not  venture  to  meet  me  on  equal  footing; 
did  not  venture  to  abstain  from  their  practice  of  absolute  challenge  ;  in 
line,  did  not  dare  to  trust  their  case  to  twelve  men  '  indifferently  chosen,* 
as  the  constitution  supposes  a  jury  to  be.  Now,  gentlemen,  before  I 
enter  further  upon  this  jury  question,  let  me  say  that  with  me  this  is 
no  complaint  merely  against  'the  Tories.'  On  this,  as  well  as  on 
numerous  other  subjects,  it  is  well  known  that  it  has  been  my  un- 
fortunate lot  to  arraign  both  Whigs  and  Tories.  I  say  further,  that 
I  care  not  a  jot  whether  the  twelve  men  selected  or  permitted  by  the 
crown  to  try  me,  or  rather  to  convict  me,  be  twelve  of  my  own  co-re- 
ligionists and  political  compatriots,  or  twelve  Protestants,  Conserva- 
tives, Tories,  or  '  Orangemen.'  Understand  me  clearly,  on  this.  My 
objection  is  not  to  the  individuals  comprising  the  jury.  You  may 
be  all  Catholics,  or  you  may  be  all  Prostestants,  for  aught  that  affects 
my  protest,  which  is  against  the  mode  by  which  you  are  selected — 
selected  by  the  crown — their  choice  for  their  own  ends — and  not  '  in- 
differently chosen'  between  the  crown  and  the  accused.  You  may 
disappoint,  or  you  may  justify  the  calculations  of  the  crown  official, 
who  has  picked  you  out  from  the  panel,  by  negative  or  positive  choice 
(I  being  silent  and  powerless) — you  may  or  may  not  be  all  he  sup- 
poses— the  outrage  on  the  spirit  of  the  constitution  is  the  same.  I  say, 
by  such  a  system  of  picking  a  jury  by  the  crown,  I  am  not  put  upon 
my  country.  Gentlemen,  from  the  first  moment  these  proceedings 
were  commenced  against  me,  I  think  it  will  be  admitted  that  I  en- 
deavored to  meet  them  fairly  and  squarely,  promptly  and  directly.  I 
have  never  once  turned  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  but  gone  straight  to 
the  issue.  I  have  from  the  outset  declared  my  perfect  readiness  to 
meet  the  charges  of  the  crown.  I  did  not  care  when  or  where  they 
tried  me.  I  said  I  would  avail  of  no  technicaHty — that  I  would  ob- 
ject to  no  juror — Catholic,  Protestant,  or  Dissenter.  All  I  asked^ 
all  I  demanded — was  to  be  *put  upon  my  country,'  in  the  real,  fair, 
and  full  sense  and  spirit  of  the  constitution.  All  I  asked  was  that  the 
crown  would  keep  its  hand  off  the  panel,  as  I  would  keep  off  mine.  I 
had  lived  fifteen  years  in  this  city ;  and  I  should  have  lived  in  vain. 
if,  amongst  the  men  that  knew  me  in  that  time,  whatever  might  be 


$82 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


their  political  or  religious  creed,  I  feared  to  have  my  acts,  my  conduct^ 
or  principles  tried.  It  is  the  first  and  most  original  condition  o! 
society  that  a  man  shall  subordinate  his  public  acts  to  the  welfare  of 
the  community,  or  at  least  acknowledge  the  right  of  those  amongst 
whom  his  lot  is  cast,  to  judge  him  on  such  an  issue  as  this.  Freely  I 
acknowledge  that  right.  Readily  I  have  responded  to  the  call  to  sub- 
mit to  the  judgment  of  my  country,  the  question  whether,  in  demon- 
strating my  sorrow  and  sympathy  for  misfortune,  my  admiration  foi 
fortitude,  my  vehement  indignation  against  what  I  considered  to  be 
injustice,  I  had  gone  too  far  and  invaded  the  rights  of  the  commun- 
ity. Gentlemen,  I  desire  in  all  that  I  have  to  say  to  keep  or  be  kept 
within  what  is  regular  and  seemly,  and  above  all,  to  utter  nothing 
wanting  in  respect  for  the  court ;  but  I  do  say,  and  I  do  protest,  that 
I  have  not  got  trial  by  jury  according  to  the  spirit  and  meaning  of 
the  constitution.  It  is  as  representatives  of  the  general  community, 
not  as  representatives  of  the  crown  officials,  the  constitution  supposes 
you  to  sit  in  that  box.  If  you  do  not  fairly  represent  the  community, 
and  if  you  are  not  impanelled  indifferently  in  that  sense,  you  are  no 
jury  in  the  spirit  of  the  constitution.  I  care  not  how  the  crown  practice 
may  be  within  the  technical  letter  of  the  law,  it  violates  the  intent  and 
meaning  of  the  constitution,  and  it  is  not  'trial  by  jury.' 

"  Let  us  suppose  the  scene  removed,  say  to  France.  A  hundred 
names  are  returned  on  what  is  called  a  panel,  by  a  state  functionary, 
for  the  trial  of  a  journalist  charged  with  sedition.  The  accused  is 
powerless  to  remove  any  name  from  the  list,  unless  for  over-age  or 
non-residence.  But  the  imperial  prosecutor  has  the  arbitrary  power  of 
ordering  as  many  as  he  pleases  to  'stand  aside.'  By  this  means 
he  puts  or  allows  on  the  jury  only  whomsoever  he  pleases.  He  can, 
beforehand,  select  the  twelve,  and  by  wiping  out,  if  it  suits  him,  the 
eighty-eight  other  names,  put  the  twelve  of  his  own  choosing  into 
the  box.  Can  this  be  called  trial  by  jury  ?  Would  not  it  be  the 
same  thing,  in  a  more  straightforward  way,  to  let  the  crown  solicitor 
send  out  a  policeman  and  collect  twelve  well  accredited  persons  of 
his  own  mind  and  opinion  ?  For  my  own  part,  I  would  prefer  this 
plain  dealing,  and  consider  far  preferable  the  more  rude  but  honest 
hostility  of  a  drum  head  court  martial  (applause  in  the  court). 
Again  I  say,  understand  me  well,  I  am  objecting  to  the  principle, 
the  system,  the  practice,  and  not  to  the  twelve  gentlemen  now  before 
me  as  individuals.  Personally,  I  am  confident  that  being  citizens 
of  Dublin,  whatever  your  views  or  opinions,  you  are  honorable 
and  conscientious  men.  You  may  have  strong  prejudices  against 
me,  or  my  principles  in  public  life — very  likely  you  have;  but  I 
doubt  not  that  though  these  may  unconsiously  tinge  your  judgment 
and  influence  your  verdict,  you  will  not  consciously  violate  the 
obligations  of  your  oath.  And  I  care  not  whether  the  crown,  in  per- 
mitting you  to  be  the  twelve,  ordered  three,  or  thirteen,  or  thirty 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


383 


•thers  to  *  stand  by*  —  or  whether  those  thus  arbitrarily  put  aside 
^ere  Catholics  or  Protestants,  Liberals,  Conservatives,  or  Nationalists 
'—the  moment  the  crown  put  its  finger  at  all  on  the  panel,  in  a  case 
<vhere  the  accused  had  no  equal  right,  the  essential  character  of  the 
jury  was  changed,  and  the  spirit  of  the  constitution  was  outraged. 
And  now,  what  is  the  charge  against  my  fellow-traversers  and  myself? 
The  Solicitor-General  put  it  very  pithily  awhile  ago,  when  he  said  our 
crime  was  '  glorifying  the  cause  of  murder.*  The  story  of  the  crown 
is  a  very  terrible,  a  very  startling  one.  It  alleges  a  state  of  things 
which  could  hardly  be  supposed  to  exist  amongst  the  Thugs  of  India. 
It  depicts  a  population  so  hideously  depraved  that  thirty  thousand  of 
them  in  one  place,  and  tens  of  thousands  in  various  other  places, 
arrayed  themselves  publicly  in  procession  to  honor  and  glorify  murder 
— to  sympathize  with  murderers  as  murderers.  Yes,  gentlemen,  that 
is  the  crown  case,  or  they  have  no  case  at  all — that  the  funeral  pro- 
cession in  Dublin,  on  the  8th  of  December  last,  was  a  demonstration 
of  sympathy  with  murder  as  murder.  For  you  will  have  noted 
that  never  once,  in  his  smart  narration  of  the  crown  story,  did  Mr. 
Harrison  allow  even  the  faintest  glimmer  to  appear  of  any  other  pos- 
sible complexion  or  construction  of  our  conduct.  Why,  I  could  have 
imagined  it  easy  for  him  not  merely  to  state  his  own  case,  but  to 
state  ours  too,  and  show  where  we  failed,  and  where  his  own  side 
prevailed.  I  could  easily  imagine  Mr.  Harrison  stating  our  view 
of  the  matter — and  combating  it.  But  he  never  once  dared  to 
-Ven  mention  our  case.  His  whole  aim  was  to  hide  it  from  you, 
and  to  fasten,  as  best  such  efforts  of  his  could  fasten,  in  your  minds 
this  one  miserable  refrain — *  They  glorified  the  cause  of  murder 
and  assassination.'  But  this  is  no  new  trick.  It  is  the  old  story 
of  the  maligners  of  our  people.  They  call  the  Irish  a  turbulent, 
riotous,  crime-loving,  law-hating  race.  They  are  forever  pointing 
to  the  unhappy  fact — for,  gentlemen,  ::t  is  a  fact — that  between  the 
Irish  people  and  the  laws  under  which  they  now  live  there  is  little 
or  no  sympathy,  but  the  bitter  estrangement  and  hostility  of  feeling 
or  of  action.  Bear  with  me,  if  I  examine  this  charge,  since  an  under- 
taking of  it  is  necessary  in  order  to  judge  our  conduct  on  the  8th 
of  December  last.  I  am  driven  upon  this  extent  of  defence  by  the 
singular  conduct  of  the  Solicitor-General,  who,  with  a  temerity  which 
he  will  repent,  actually  opened  the  page  of  Irish  history,  pjoing  back 
upon  it  just  so  far  as  it  served  his  own  purpose,  and  no  farther. 
Ah !  fatal  hour  for  my  prosecutors  when  they  appealed  to  history. 
For  assuredly,  that  is  the  tribunal  that  will  vindicate  the  Irish  people, 
and  confound  those  who  malign  them  as  sympathizers  with  assassina- 
tion and  glorifiers  of  murder — " 

Solicitor- General — "  My  lord,  I  must  really  call  upon  you — I  deny 
that  I  ever — " 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald—"  ProceedL  Mr.  Sullivan." 


384  ^-^^   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

Mr.  Sullivan — '*My  lords,  I  took  down  the  Solicitor-Generari 
words.  I  quote  them  accurately  as  he  spoke  them,  and  he  cannot 
get  rid  of  them  now.  *  Glorifiers  of  the  cause  of  murder'  was  his 
designation  of  my  fellow-traversers  and  myself,  and  our  fifty  thousand 
fellow-mourners  in  the  funeral  procession  ;  and  before  I  sit  down 
I  will  make  him  rue  the  utterance.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  if  British 
law  be  held  in  '  disesteem' — as  the  crown  prosecutors  phrase  it — here' 
in  Ireland,  there  is  an  explanation  for  that  fact,  other  than  that  sup- 
plied by  the  Solicitor- General :  namely,  the  wickedness  of  seditious 
persons  like  myself,  and  the  criminal  sympathies  of  a  people  ever 
ready  to  'glorify  the  ciuse  of  murder.'  Mournful,  most  mournful,  is 
the  lot  of  that  land  where  the  laws  are  not  respected — nay,  revered  by 
the  people.  No  greater  curse  could  befall  a  country  than  to  have  the 
^aws  estranged  from  popular  esteem,  or  in  antagonism  with  the  na- 
tional sentiment.  Everything  goes  wrong  under  such  a  state  of  things. 
The  ivy  will  cling  to  the  oak,  and  the  tendrils  of  the  vine  reach 
forth  towards  strong  support.  But  more  anxiously  and  naturally  still 
does  the  human  heart  instinctively  seek  an  object  of  reverence  and 
love,  as  well  as  of  protection  and  support,  in  law,  authority,  sovereignty. 
At  least,  among  a  virtuous  people  like  ours,  there  is  ever  a  yearning 
for  these  relations,  which  are,  and  ought  to  be,  as  natural  between  a 
people  and  their  government,  as  between  the  children  and  the  parent. 
I  say  for  myself,  and  I  firmly  believe  I  speak  the  sentiments  of  most 
Irishmen  when  I  say,  that  so  far  from  experiencing  satisfaction,  we 
experience  pain  in  our  present  relations  with  the  law  and  governing 
power  ;  and  we  long  for  the  day  when  happier  relations  may  be  re- 
stored between  the  laws  and  the  national  sentiment  in  Ireland.  We 
Irish  are  no  race  of  assassins  or  'glorifiers  of  murder.'  From  the* 
most  remote  ages,  in  all  centuries,  it  has  been  told  of  our  people  that 
they  were  pre-eminently  a  justice-loving  people.  Two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago  the  predecessor  of  the  Solicitor-General — an  English 
Attorney-General — it  may  be  necessary  to  tell  the  learned  gentleman 
that  his  name  was  Sir  John  Davis  (for  historical  as  well  as  geogra- 
phical knowledge*  seem  to  be  rather  scarce  amongst  the  present  law 
officers  of  the  crown),  (laughter) — held  a  very  different  opinion  of  them 
from  that  put  forth  to-day  by  the  Solicitor-General.  Sir  John  Davis 
said  no  people  in  the  world  loved  equal  justice  more  than  the  Irish, 
even  where  the  decision  was  against  themselves.  That  character  the 
Irish  have  ever  borne,  and  bear  still.  But  if  you  want  the  explanation 
of  this  'disesteem'  and  hostility  for  British  law,  you  must  trace  effect 


*  On  Mr.  Sullivan's  first  trial  the  Solicitor-General,  until  stopped  and  corrected  by  the 
court,  was  suggesting  to  the  jury  that  there  was  no  such  place  as  Knockrochery,  and  that  a 
Fenian  proclamation  which  had  been  pubHshed  in  the  Weekly  Neivs  as  having  been  posted 
at  that  place,  was,  in  fact,  composed  in  Mr.  Sullivan's  office.  Mr.  Justice  Deasy,  howeveK. 
^intedly  corrected  and  reproved  this  blunder  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Harrison. 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  385 

to  cause.  It  will  not  do  to  stand  by  the  river- side  near  where  it  flows 
into  the  sea,  and  wonder  why  the  water  continues  to  run  by.  Not  I 
— not  my  fellow-traversers — not  my  fellow-countrymen — are  account- 
able for  the  antagonism  between  law  and  popular  sentiment  in  this 
country.  Take  up  the  sad  story  where  you  will — yesterday,  last  month 
last  year,  last  century — two  centuries  ago,  three  centuries,  five  cen- 
turies, six  centuries — and  what  will  you  find  ?  English  law  presenting  it- 
self to  the  Irish  people  in  a  guise  forbidding  sympathy  or  respect,  and 
evoking  fear  and  resentment.  Take  it  at  its  birth  in  this  country. 
Shake  your  minds  free  of  legal  theories  and  legal  fictions,  and  deal 
wath  facts.  This  court,  where  I  now  stand,  is  the  legal  and  political 
heir  descendant,  and  representative  of  the  first  law  court  of  the  Pale 
six  or  seven  centuries  ago.  Within  that  Pale  were  a  few  thousand 
English  settlers,  and  of  them  alone  did  the  law  take  cognizance. 
The  Irish  nation — the  millions  outside  the  Pale — were  known  only 
as  *  the  king's  Irish  enemie.'  The  law  classed  them  with  the  wild 
beasts  of  nature,  whom  it  was  lawful  to  slay.  Later  on  in  our  history 
we  find  the  Irish  near  the  Pale  sometimes  asking  to  be  admitted  to 
the  benefits  of  English  law,  since  they  were  forbidden  to  have  any 
of  their  own  ;  but  their  petitions  were  refused.  Gentlemen,  this 
was  English  law  as  it  stood  towards  the  Irish  people  for  centuries  ; 
and  wonder,  if  you  will,  that  the  Irish  people  held  it  in '  disesteem' : — • 

•'  *  The  Irish  were  denied  the  right  of  bringing  actions  in  any  of  the  English  courts 
in  Ireland  for  trespasses  to  their  lands,  or  for  assaults  or  batteries  to  their  persons. 
Accordingly,  it  was  answer  enough  to  the  action  in  such  a  case  to  say  that  the  plain- 
tiff was  an  Irishman,  unless  he  could  produce  a  special  charter  giving  him  the  rights 
of  an  Englishman.  If  he  sought  damage  against  an  Englishman  for  turning  him  off 
his  land,  for  the  seduction  of  his  daughter  Nora,  or  for  the  beating  of  his  wife 
Devorgil,  or  for  the  driving  off  of  his  cattle,  it  was  a  good  defence  to  say  he  was  a 
mere  Irishman.  And  if  an  Englishman  was  indicted  for  manslaughter,  if  the  man 
slain  was  an  Irishman,  he  pleaded  that  the  deceased  was  of  the  Irish  nation,  and 
that  it  was  no  felony  to  kill  an  Irishman.  For  this,  however,  there  was  a  fine  of 
five  marks,  payable  to  the  king;  but  mostly  they  killed  us  for  nothing.  If  it  hap- 
pened that  the  man  killed  was  a  servant  of  an  Englishman,  he  added  to  the  plea  of  the 
deceased  being  an  Irishman,  that  if  the  master  should  ever  demand  damages,  he 
would  be  ready  to  satisfy  him. ' 

That  was  the  egg  of. English  law  in  Ireland.  That  was  the  seed — 
that  was  the  plant — do  you  wonder  if  the  tree  is  not  now  esteemed 
and  loved?  If  you  poison  a  stream  at  its  source,  will  you  marvel  if 
down  through  all  its  courses  the  deadly  element  is  present?  Now 
trace  from  this,  its  birth,  English  law  in  Ireland — trace  down  to  this 
hour — and  examine  when  or  where  it  ever  set  itself  to  a  reconciliation 
with  the  Irish  people.  Observe  the  plain  relevancy  of  this  to  my 
case.  I,  and  men  like  me,  are  held  accountable  for  bringing  law  into 
hatred  and  contempt  in  Ireland;  and  in  presenting  this  charge  against 
me,  the  Solicitor-General  appealed  to  history.  I  retort  the  charge  on 
my  accusers;  and  I  will  trace  down  to  our  own  day  the  relations  oi 


386 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


hostility  which  English  law  itself  established  between  itself  and  the 
people  of  Ireland.  Gentlemen,  for  four  hundred  years — down  to 
1607 — the  Irish  people  had  no  existence  in  the  eye  of  the  law;  or 
rather,  much  worse,  were  viewed  by  it  as  *  The  King's  Irish  enemie.* 
But  even  within  the  Pale,  how  did  it  recommend  itself  to"  popular 
reverence  and  affection  ?  Ah,  gentlemen,  I  will  show  that  in  those 
days,  just  as  there  have  been  in  our  own,  there  were  executions  and 
scaffold- scenes  which  invoked  popular  horror  and  resentment — though 
they  were  all  'according  to  law,' and  not  to  be  questioned  unless 
by  'seditionists.'  The  scaffold  streamed  with  the  blood  of  those 
whom  the  people  loved  and  revered — how  could  they  love  and  revere 
the  scaffold?  Yet,  'twas  all  'according  to  law.'  The  sanctuary  was 
profaned  and  rifled;  the  priest  was  slain  or  banished — 'twas  all  'ac- 
cording to  law,'  no  doubt,  and  to  hold  law  in  'disesteem'  is  'sedi- 
tion.' Men  were  convicted  and  executed  'according  to  law;'  yet 
the  people  demonstrated  sympathy  for  them,  and  resentment  against 
their  executioners — most  perversely,  as  a  Solicitor-General,  doubtless, 
would  say.  And,  indeed,  the  State  papers  contain  accounts  of  those 
demonstrations  written  by  crown  officials  which  sound  very  like  the 
Solicitor-General's  speech  to-day.  Take,  for  instance,  the  execution — 
'according  to  law' — of  the  'popish  bishop'  O'Hurley.  Here  is  the 
letter  of  a  state  functionary  on  the  subject  : — 

"  '  I  could  not  before  now  so  impart  to  her  Majesty  as  to  know  her  mind  touching 
the  same  for  your  lordship's  direction.  Wherefore,  she  having  at  length  resolved, 
I  have  accordingly,  by  her  commandment,  to  signify  her  Majesty's  pleasure  unto 
you,  touching  Hurley,  which  is  this: — That  the  man  being  so  notorious  and  ill  a  sub- 
ject, as  appeareth  by  all  the  circumstances  of  his  cause  he  is,  you  proceed,  if  it  may 
be,  to  his  execution  by  ordinary  trial  of  him  for  it.  How  be  it,  in  case  you  shall 
find  the  effect  of  his  course  doubtful  by  reason  of  the  affection  of  such  as  shall  be 
on  his  jury,  and  by  reason  of  the  supposal  conceived  by  the  lawyers  of  that  country, 
that  he  can  hardly  be  found  guilty  for  his  treason  committed  in  foreign  parts  against 
her  Majesty.  Then  her  pleasure  is  you  take  A  shorter  way  with  him,  by  mar- 
tial law.  So,  as  you  may  see,  it  is  referred  to  your  discretion,  whether  of  those  two 
ways  your  lordship  will  take  with  him,  and  the  man  being  so  resolute  to  reveal  no 
more  matter,  it  is  thought  best  to  have  NO  further  tortures  used  against  him, 
but  that  you  proceed  forthwith  to  his  execution  in  manner  aforesaid.  As  for 
her  Majesty's  good  acceptation  of  your  careful  travail  in  this  matter  of  Hurley,  you 
need  nothing  to  doubt,  and  for  your  better  assurance  thereof  she  has  commanded  me 
to  let  your  lordship  understand  that,  as  well  as  in  all  others  the  like,  as  in  the  case 
of  Hurley,  she  cannot  but  greatly  allow  and  commend  your  doings.' 

"  Well,  they  put  his  feet  into  tin  boots  filled  with  oil,  and  then  placed 
him  standing  in  the  fire.  Eventually  they  cut  off  his  head,  tore  out 
his  bowels,  and  cut  the  limbs  from  his  body.  Gentlemen,  'twas  all 
'according  to  law  ;'  and  to  demonstrate  sympathy  for  him,  and  'dis- 
esteem'  of  that  law,  was  'sedition.'  But  do  you  wonder  greatly  that 
law  of  that  complexion  failed  to  secure  popular  sympathy  and  re- 
spect ?  One  more  illustration,  gentlemen  ;  taken  from  a  period  some- 
what later  on.     It  is  the  execution — 'according  to  law,'  gentlemen; 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  387 

entirely  'according  to  law' — of  another  popisli  bishop  named 
O'Devany.  The  account  is  that  of  a  crown  official  of  the  time — • 
some  most  worthy  predecessor  of  the  Solicitor- General.  I  read  it 
from  the  recently  published  work  of  the  Rev.  C.  P.  Meehan.  '  On 
the  28th  of  January,  the  bishop  and  priest,  being  arrainged  at  the 
King's  Bench,  were  each  condemned  of  treason,  and  adjudged  to  be 
executed  the  Saturday  following  ;  which  day  being  come,  a  priest  or 
two  of  the  Pope's  brood,  with  holy  water  and  other  holy  stuffs' — ^no 
sneer  was  that  at  all,  gentlemen  ;  no  sneer  at  Catholic  practices,  for  a 
crown  official  never  sneers  at  Catholic  practices) — 'were  sent  to 
sanctify  the  gallows  whereon  they  w^ere  to  die.  About  two  o'clock, 
p.  m.,  the  traitors  were  delivered  to  the  sheriffs  of  Dublin,  who  placed 
them  in  a  small  car,  which  was  followed  by  a  great  multitude.  As 
the  car  progressed  the  spectators  knelt  dowm  ;  but  the  bishop  sitting 
still,  like  a  block,  would  not  vouchsafe  them  a  word,  or  turn  his  head 
aside.  The  multitude,  however,  following  the  car,  made  such  a  dole 
and  lamentation  after  him,  as  the  heavens  themselves  resounded  the 
echoes  of  their  outcries.'  (Actually,  a  seditious  funeral  procession — 
made  up  of  the  ancestors  of  those  thirty  thousand  men,  women,  and 
children,  who,  according  to  the  Solicitor-General,  glorified  the  cause 
of  murder  on  the  8th  of  last  December.)  '  Being  come  to  the  gallows, 
whither  they  were  followed  by  troops  of  the  citizens,  men  and  women 
of  all  classes,  most  of  the  best  being  present,  the  latter  kept  up  such 
a  shrieking,  such  a  howling,  and  such  a  hallooing,  as  if  St.  Patrick 
himself  had  been  gone  to  the  gallows,  could  not  have  made  greater 
signs  of  grief  ;  but  when  they  saw  him  turned  from  off  the  gallows, 
they  raised  the  ivhobiib  with  such  a  main  cry,  as  if  the  rebel 
had  come  to  rifle  the  city.  Being  ready  to  mount  the  ladder,  when 
he  was  pressed  by  some  of  the  bystanders  to  speak,  he  repeated  fre- 
quently, Sine  7He  quoeso.  The  executioner  had  no  sooner  taken  off  the 
bishop's  head,  than  the  townsmen  of  Dublin  began  to  flock  about 
him,  some  taking  up  the  head  with  pitying  aspect,  accompanied  with 
sobs  and  sighs  ;  some  kissed  it  with  as  religious  an  appetite  as  ever 
they  kissed  the  Pax  ;  some  cut  away  all  the  hair  from  the  head,  which 
they  preserved  for  a  relic  ;  some  others  were  practisers  to  steal  the 
head  away,  but  the  executioner  gave  notice  to  the  sheriffs.  Now, 
when  he  began  to  quarter  the  body,  the  women  thronged  about  him, 
and  happy  was  she  that  could  get  but  her  handkerchief  dipped  in  the 
blood  of  the  traitor  ;  and  the  body  being  once  dissevered  in  four 
quarters,  they  neither  left  finger  nor  toe,  but  they  cut  them  off,  and 
carried  them  away ;  and  some  others  that  could  get  no  holy  monu- 
ments that  appertained  to  his  person,  with  their  knives  they  shaved 
off  chips  from  the  hallowed  gallows  ;  neither  could  they  omit  the  hal- 
ter wherewith  he  was  hanged,  but  it  was  rescued  for  holy  uses.  The 
same  night  after  the  execution,  a  great  crowd  flocked  about  the  gal- 
lows, and  there  spent  the  fore  part  of  the  night  m  heathenish  howling, 


388  "^HE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

and  performing  many  popish  ceremonies  ;  and  after  midnight,  being 
then  Candlemas  day,  in  the  morning  having  their  priests  present  in 
readiness  they  had  Mass  after  Mass  till,  daylight  being  come,  they 
departed  to  their  own  houses.'  There  was  '  sympathy  with  sedition,* 
for  you,  gentlemen.  No  wonder  the  crown  official  who  tells  the  story 
— some  worthy  predecessor  of  Mr.  Harrison — should  be  horrified  at 
such  a  demonstration,  I  will  sadden  you  with  no  further  illustrations  of 
English  law,  but  I  think  it  will  be  admitted  that  after  centuries  of 
such  law,  one  need  not  wonder  if  the  people  hold  it  in  '  hatred  and 
contempt.'  With  the  opening  of  the  seventeenth  century,  however, 
came  a  golden  and  glorious  opportunity  for  ending  that  melancholy — 
that  terrible  state  of  things.  In  the  reign  of  James  I.,  English  law 
for  the  first  time  extended  to  every  corner  of  this  kingdom.  The 
Irish  came  into  the  new  order  of  things  frankly,  and  in  good  faith  ; 
and  if  wise  counsels  prevailed  then  amongst  our  rulers,  oh,  what  a 
blessed  ending  there  might  have  been  to  the  bloody  feud  of  cen- 
turies. The  Irish  submitted  to  the  Gaelic  King,  to  whom  had  come 
the  English  crown.  In  their  eyes  he  was  of  a  friendly,  nay,  of  a 
kindred  race.  He  was  of  a  line  of  Gaelic  kings  that  had  often  be- 
friended Ireland.  Submitting  to  him  was  not  yielding  to  the  brutal 
Tudor.  Yes,  that  was  the  hour,  the  blessed  opportunity  for  laying 
the  foundation  of  a  real  union  between  the  three  kingdoms  ;  a  union 
of  equal  national  rights  under  the  one  crown.  This  was  what  the  Irish 
expected  ;  and  in  this  sense  they  in  that  hour  accepted  the  new 
dynasty.  And  it  is  remarkable  that  from  that  day  to  this,  though 
England  has  seen  bloody  revolutions  and  violent  changes  of  rulers, 
Ireland  has  ever  held  faithfully — too  faithfully — to  the  sovereignty 
thus  adopted.  But  how  were  they  received .''  How  were  their  ex- 
pectations met  ?  By  persecution,  proscription,  and  wholesale  plunder, 
even  by  that  miserable  Stuart,  His  son  came  to  the  throne.  Disaf- 
fection broke  out  in  England  and  Scotland.  *  *  *  How  did  the 
Irish  meanwhile  act?  They  stood  true  to  their  allegiance.  They 
took  the  field  for  the  King.  What  was  the  result?  They  were  given 
over  to  slaughter  and  plunder  by  the  brutal  soldiery  of  the  English 
Fenians.  Their  nobles  and  gentry  were  beggared  and  proscribed  ; 
their  children  were  sold  as  white  slaves  to  West  Indian  planters  ; 
and  their  gallant  struggles  for  the  King,  their  sympathy  for  the  royalist 
cause,  was  actually  denounced  by  the  English  Fenians  as  'sedition,* 
'rebellion,'  'lawlessness.'  'sympathy  with  crime.'  Ah,  gentlemen, 
the  evils  thus  planted  in  our  midst  will  survive,  and  work  their  influ- 
ence ;  yet  some  men  wonder  that  English  law  is  held  in  '  disesteem* 
in  Ireland.  Time  went  on,  gentlemen  ;  time  went  on.  Another 
James  sat  on  the  throne  ;  and  again  English  Protestant  Fenianism 
conspired  for  the  overthrow  of  their  sovereign.  *  *  *  King 
James  came  here  and  opened  his  Irish  Parliament  in  person.  Oh, 
who  will  say,  in  that  brief  hour  at  least,  the   Irish  nation  was  not 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN,  389 

reconciled  to  the  throne  and  laws  ?  King,  Parliament,  and  people, 
were  blended  in  one  element  of  enthusiasm,  joy,  and  hope,  the  first 
lime  for  ages   Ireland  had  known  such  a  joy.     Yes — 

**  *  We,  too,  had  our  day — it  was  brief,  it  is  ended — 

When  a  king  dwelt  among  us — no  strange  King — but  OURS. 
When  the  shout  of  a  people  delivered  ascended, 

And  shook  the  green  banner  that  hung  on  yon  towers. 
We  saw  it  like  leaves  in  the  summer  time  shiver ; 
We  read  the  gold  legend  that  blazoned  it  o'er- 
*  To-day — now  or  never  :  to-day  and  forever" — 
Oh,  God  !  have  we  seen  it  to  see  it  no  more  I' 

(Applause  in  court).  Once  more  the  Irish  people  bled  and  sacri- 
ficed for  their  loyalty  to  the  throne  and  laws.  Once  more  confisca- 
tion devastated  the  land,  and  the  blood  of  the  loyal  and  true  was 
poured  like  rain.  The  English  Fenians  and  the  foreign  emissaries 
triumphed,  aided  by  the  brave  Protestant  rebels  of  Ulster.  King 
William  came  to  the  throne — a  prince  whose  character  is  greatly  mis- 
understood in  Ireland  :  a  brave,  courageous  soldier,  and  a  tolerant 
man,  could  he  have  had  his  way.  The  Irish  who  had  fought  and  lost, 
submitted  on  terms,  and  had  law  even  now  been  just  or  tolerant,  it  was 
open  to  the  revolutionary  regime  to  have  made  the  Irish  good  sub- 
jects. But  what  took  place  ?  The  penal  code  came,  in  all  its  horror, 
to  fill  the  Irish  heart  with  hatred  and  resistance.  I  will  read  for  you 
what  a  Protestant  historian — a  man  of  learning  and  ability — who  is 
now  listening  to  me  in  this  court — has  written  of  that  code.     I  quote 

*  Godkin's  History,'  published  by  Cassel  of  London  : — 

**  *  The  eighteenth  century,'  says  Mr.  Godkin,  '  was  the  era  of  persecution,  in  which 
the  law  did  the  work  of  the  sword  more  effectually  and  more  safely.  Then  was 
established  a  code  framed  with  almost  diabolical  ingenuity  to  extinguish  natural  af- 
fection— to  foster  perfidy  and  hypocrisy — to  petrify  conscience — to  perpetuate  brutal 
ignorance — to  facilitate  the  work  of  tyranny — by  rendering  the  vices  of  slavery  in- 
herent and  natural  in  the  Irish  character,  and  to  make  Protestantism  almost  irre- 
deemably odious  as  the  monstrous  incarnation  of  all  moral  perversions.* 

"  Gentlemen,  in  that  fell  spirit  English  law  addressed  itself  to  a 
dreadful  purpose  here  in  Ireland  :  and,  mark  you,  that  code  prevailed 
down  to  our  own  time  ;  down  to  this  very  generation.  '  Law'  called 
on  the  son  to  sell  his  father  ;  called  on  the  flock  to  betray  the  pastor. 

*  Law'  forbade  us  to  educate — forbade  us  to  worship  God  in  the  faith 
of  our  fathers.  *  Law'  made  us  outcasts — scourged  us,  trampled  us, 
plundered  us — do  you  marvel  that,  amongst  the  Irish  people,  law  has 
been  held  in  *  disesteem  ?'  Do  you  think  this  feeling  arises  from 
'  sympathy  with  assassination  or  murder  ?'  *  *  *  And  lo  !  once 
more,  for  a  bright,  brief  day,  Irish  national  sentiment  was  in  warm  sym- 
pathy and  heartfelt  accord  with  the  laws.  *  Eighty-two'  came.  Irish 
Protestant  patriotism,  backed  by  the  hearty  sympathy  of  the  Catholic 


^QQ  THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 

millions,  raised  up  Ireland  to  a  proud  and  glorious  position  ;  lifted  our 
country  from  the  ground,  where  she  lay  prostrate  under  the  sword  of 
England— but  what  do  I  say  ?  This  is  'sedition."  It  has  this  week 
been  decreed  sedition  to  picture  Ireland  thus."^* 

''  Well,  then,  they  rescued  her  from  what  I  will  call  the  loving  em- 
brace of  her  dear  sister  Britannia,  and  enthroned  her  in  her  rightful 
place,  a  queen  amongst  the  nations.  *  *  *  But  sad  is  the  story. 
Our  independent  national  legislature  was  torn  from  us  by  means,  the 
iniquity  of  which,  even  among  English  writers,  is  now  proclaimed  and 
execrated.  By  fraud  and  by  force  that  outrage  on  law,  on  right,  on 
justice,  was  consummated.  In  speaking  thus  I  speak  *  sedition.' _  No 
one  can  write  the  facts  of  Irish  history  without  committing  sedition. 
*  *  *  Look  at  the  lessons — unhappy  lessons — taught  our  people 
by  that  London  legislature  where  their  own  will  is  overborne.  Con- 
cessions refused  and  resisted  as  long  as  they  durst  be  withheld;  and 
when  granted  at  all,  granted  only  after  passion  has  been  aroused  and 
the  whole  nation  been  embittered.  The  Irish  people  sought  Emanci- 
pation. Their  great  leader  was  dogged  at  every  step  by  hostile  gov- 
ernment proclamations  and  crown  prosecutions.  Coercion  act  over 
coercion  act  was  rained  upon  us;  yet  O'Connell  triumphed.  But  how 
and  in  what  spirit  was  Emancipation  granted  ?  Ah,  there  never  was  a 
speech  more  pregnant  with  mischief,  with  sedition,  with  revolutionary 
teaching — never  words  tended  more  to  bring  law  and  government  into 
contempt — than  the  words  of  the  English  premier  when  he  declared 
Emancipation  must,  sorely  against  his  will,  be  granted,  if  England  would 
not  face  a  civil  war.  That  was  a  bad  lesson  to  teach  Irishmen.  Worse 
still  was  taught  them.  O'Connell,  th^  great  constitutional  leader,  a 
man  with  whom  loyalty  and  respect  for  the  laws  was  a  fundamental 
principle  of  action,  led  the  people  towards  further  liberation — the 
liberation,  not  of  a  creed,  but  a  nation.  What  did  he  seek  ?  To 
bring  once  more  the  laws  and  the  national  will  into  accord;  to  recon- 
cile the  people  and  the  laws  by  restoring  the  constitution  of  queen, 
lords,  and  commons.  How  was  he  met  by  the  government?  By  the 
flourish  of  the  sword;  by  the  drawn  sabre  and  the  shotted  gun,  in  the 
market-place  and  the  highway.  '  Law'  finally  grasped  him  as  a  con- 
spirator, and  a  picked  jury  gave  the  crown  then,  as  now,  such  verdict 
as  was  required.  The  venerable  apostle  of  constitutional  doctrines 
was  consigned  to  prison,  while  a  sorrowing — aye,  a  maddened  nation, 
wept  for  him  outside.  Do  you  marvel  that  they  held  in  'disesteera 
the  law  and  government  that  acted  thus  ?  Do  you  marvel  that  to- 
day, in  Ireland,  as  in  every  century  of  all  those  through  which  I  have 
traced  this  state  of  things,  the  people  and  the  law  scowl  upon  each 
other?     *     "     *     Gentlemen,  the  present  prosecution  arises  directly 

*  For  publishing  an  illustration  in  the   Weekly  Nevos^  thus  picturing  England's  policy  di 
C96rcion,  Mr.  Sullivan  had  been  found  guilty  of  seditious  libel  on  the  previous  trial. 


THE    WEARING   OF   THE   GREEN, 


391 


out  of  what  is  known  as  the  Manchester  tragedy.  The  Solicitor-General 
gave  you  his  version,  his  fanciful  sketch  of  that  sad  affair;  but  it  will 
be  my  duty  to  give  you  the  true  facts,  which  differ  considerably  from  the 
crown  story.  The  Solicitor-General  began  with  telling  us  about  '  the 
broad  summer's  sun  of  the  i8th  of  September'  (laughter).  Gentlemen,  it 
seems  very  clear  that  the  summer  goes  far  into  the  year  for  those  who 
enjoy  the  sweets  of  office;  nay,  I  am  sure  it  is  summer  'all  the  year  round* 
with  the  Solicitor- General,  while  the  present  ministry  remain  in.  A 
goodly  golden  harvest  he  and  his  colleagues  are  making  in  this  sum- 
mer of  prosecutions;  and  they  seem  very  well  inclined  to  get  up 
enough  of  them  (laughter).  Well,  gentlemen,  I'm  not  complaining  of 
that,  but  I  will  tell  you  who  complain  loudly — the  *  outs,'  with  whom 
it  is  midwinter,  while  the  Solicitor-General  and  his  friends  are  enjoy- 
ing this  summer  (renewed  laughter).  Well,  gentlemen,  some  time  last 
September  two  prominent  leaders  of  the  Fenian  movement — alleged 
to  be  so,  at  least — named  Kelly  and  Deasey,  were  arrested  in  Man- 
chester. In  Manchester  there  is  a  considerable  Irish  population,  and 
amongst  them  it  was  known  those  men  had  sympathizers.  They  were 
brought  up  at  the  police  court — and  now,  gentlemen,  pray  attentively 
mark  this.  The  Irish  executive  that  morning  telegraphed  to  the 
Manchester  authorities  a  strong  warning  of  an  attempted  rescue.  The 
Manchester  police  had  full  notice — how  did  they  treat  the  timely 
warning  sent  from  Dublin;  a  warning  which,  if  heeded,  would  have 
averted  all  this  sad  and  terrible  business  which  followed  upon  that 
day  ?  Gentlemen,  the  Manchester  police  authorities  scoffed  at  the 
warning.  They  derided  it  as  a  *  Hirish'  alarm.  What !  The  idea 
of  low  '  Hirish'  hodmen  or  laborers  rescuing  prisoners  from  them, 
the  valiant  and  the  brave  !  Why,  gentlemen,  the  Seth  Bromleys  of 
the  '  force'  in  Marchester  waxed  hilarious  and  derisive  over  the  idea. 
They  would  not  even  ask  a  truncheon  to  put  to  flight  even  a  thousand 
of  those  despised  'Hirish;'  and  so,  despite  specific  warning  from 
Dublin,  the  van  containing  the  two  Fenian  leaders,  guarded  by  eleven 
police  officers,  set  out  from  the  police  office  to  the  gaol.  Now,  gen- 
tlemen, I  charge  on  the  stolid  vaingloriousness  in  the  first  instance, 
and  the  contemptible  pusillanimity  in  the  second  instance,  of  the  Man- 
chester police — the  vaHant  Seth  Bromleys — all  that  followed.  On  the 
skirts  of  the  city  the  van  was  attacked  by  some  eighteen  Irish  youths, 
having  three  revolvers — three  revolvers,  gentlemen,  and  no  more — 
amongst  them.  The  valor  of  the  Manchester  eleven  vanished  at  the 
sight  of  those  three  revolvers — some  of  them,  it  seems,  loaded  with 
blank  cartridge  !  The  Seth  Bromleys  took  to  their  heels.  They  aban- 
doned the  van.  Now,  gentlemen,  do  not  understand  me  to  call 
those  policemen  cowards.  It  is  hard  to  blame  an  unarmed  man  who 
runs  away  from  a  pointed  revolver,  which,  whether  loaded  or  un- 
loaded, is  a  powerful  persuasion  to — depart.  But  I  do  say  that  I  be- 
lieve in  my  soul  that  if  that  had  occurred  here  in  Dublin,  eleven  men 


392 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


of  our  metropolitan  police  would  have  taken  those  three  revolvers,  ot 
perished  in  the  attempt  (applause).  Oh,  if  eleven  Irish  policemen  had 
run  away  like  that  from  a  few  poor  English  lads  with  barely  three  re« 
volvers,  how  the  press  of  England  would  yell  in  fierce  denunciation — 
why,  they  would  trample  to  scorn  the  name  of  Irishmen — (applause 
in  the  court,  which  the  officials  vainly  tried  to  silence)." 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald — "If  these  interruptions  continue,  the  parties 
so  offending  must  be  removed." 

Mr.  Sullivan — "I  am  sorry,  my  lord,  for  the  interruption  ;  though 
not  sorry  the  people  should  endorse  my  estimate  of  the  police.  Well, 
gentlemen,  the  van  was  abandoned  by  its  valiant  guard  ;  but  there 
remained  inside  one  brave  and  faithful  fellow,  Brett  by  name.  I  am 
now  giving  you  the  facts  as  I  in  my  conscience  and  soul  believe  they 
occurred — and  as  millions  of  my  countrymen — aye,  and  thousands  of 
Englishmen,  too — solemnly  believe  them  to  have  occurred,  though 
they  differ  in  one  item  widely  from  the  crown  version.  Brett  refused 
to  give  up  the  key  of  the  van,  which  he  held  ;  and  the  attacking 
party  commenced  various  endeavors  to  break  it  open.  At  length 
one  of  them  called  out  to  fire  a  pistol  into  the  lock,  and  thus  burst  it 
open.  The  unfortunate  Brett  at  that  moment  was  looking  through  the 
keyhole,  endeavoring  to  get  a  view  of  the  inexplicable  scene  outside, 
when  he  received  the  bullet,  and  fell  dead.  Gentlemen,  that  may  be  the 
true,  or  it  may  be  the  mistaken  version.  *  *  *  But  even  suppose 
your  view  differs  sincerely  from  mine,  will  you,  can  you,  hold  that  I, 
thus  conscientiously  persuaded,  sympathize  with  murder,  because  I 
sympathize  with  men  hanged  for  that  which  I  contend  was  accident, 
and  not  murder  ?  That  is  exactly  the  issue  in  this  case.  AVell,  the 
rescued  Fenian  leaders  got  away  ;  and  then,  when  all  was  over — when 
the  danger  was  passed — valor  tremendous  returned  to  the  fleet- of- 
foot  Manchester  police.  Oh,  but  they  wreaked  their  vengeance  that 
night  on  the  houses  of  the  poor  Irish  in  Manchester  !  By  a  savage 
razzia  they  soon  filled  the  jails  with  our  poor  countrymen,  seized  on 
suspicion.  And  then  broke  forth  all  over  England  that  shout  of 
anger  and  passion,  which  none  of  us  will  ever  forget.  The  national 
pride  had  been  sorely  wounded  ;  the  national  power  had  been  openly 
and  humiliatingly  defied  ;  the  national  fury  was  aroused.  On  all 
sides  resounded  the  hoarse  shout  for  vengeance,  swift  and  strong. 
Then  was  seen  a  sight,  the  most  shameful  of  its  kind  that  this  century 
has  exhibited — a  sight  at  thought  of  which  Englishmen  will  yet  hang 
their  heads  for  shame,  and  which  the  English  historian  will  chronicle 
with  reddened  cheek — those  poor  and  humble  Irish  youths  led  into  the 
Manchester  dock  in  chains  !  In  chains  !  *  *  *  For  what  were  those 
chains  put  on  untried  prisoners  ?  Gentlemen,  it  was  at  this  point  exactly 
that  Irish  sympathy  came  to  the  side  of  those  prisoners.  It  was  when 
we  saw  them  thus  used  and  saw  that,  innocent  or  guilty,  they  would 
be  imwolated — sacrificed  to  glut  the  passion  of  the  hour — that  our  feel* 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  393 

ings  rose  high  and  strong  in  their  behalf.  Even  in  England  there  were 
men — noble-hearted  Englishmen,  for  England  is  never  without  such 
men — who  saw  that  if  tried  in  the  midst  of  this  national  frenzy,  those 
victims  would  be  sacrificed  ;  and  accordingly  efforts  were  made  for  a 
postponement  of  the  trial.  But  the  roar  of  passion  carried  its  way. 
Not  even  till  the  ordinary  assizes  would  the  trial  be  postponed.  A 
special  commission  was  sped  to  do  the  work  while  Manchester  jurors 
were  in  a  white  heat  of  panic,  indignation,  and  fury.  Then  came  the 
trial,  which  was  just  what  might  be  expected.  Witnesses  swore  ahead 
without  compunction,  and  jurors  believed  them  without  hesitation. 
Five  men  arraigned  together  as  principals — Allen,  Larkin,  O'Brien, 
Shore,  and  Maguire — were  found  guilty,  and  the  judge  concurring  in 
the  verdict,  were  sentenced  to  death.  Five  men — not  three  men, 
gentlemen — five  men  in  the  one  verdict,  not  five  separate  verdicts. 
Five  men  by  the  same  evidence  and  the  same  jury  in  the  same  verdict. 
Was  that  a  just  verdict  ?  The  case  of  the  crown  here  to-day  is  that  it 
was — that  it  is  '  sedition'  to  impeach  that  verdict.  *  *  *  The  very 
evening  those  men  were  sentenced,  thirty  newspaper  reporters  sent  th'^ 
Home  Secretary  a  petition  protesting  that — the  evidence  of  the  wit- 
nesses and  the  verdict  of  the  jury  notwithstanding — there  was  at  least 
one  innocent  man  thus  marked  for  execution.  The  government  felt 
that  the  reporters  were  right,  and  the  jurors  wrong.  They  pardoned 
Maguire  as  an  innocent  man — that  same  Maguire  whose  legal  convic- 
tion is  here  put  in  as  evidence  that  he  and  four  others  were  truly  mur- 
derers, to  sympathize  with  whom  is  to  commit  sedition — nay,  'to 
glorify  the  cause  of  murder.' 

*  *  *  "  But  now  arose  in  redoubled  fury  the  savage  cry  for 
blood.  In  vain  good  men,  noble  and  humane  men,  in  England  tried 
to  save  the  national  honor  by  breasting  this  horrible  outburst 
of  passion.  They  were  overborne.  Petitioners  for  mercy  were 
mobbed  and  hooted  in  the  streets.  We  saw  all  this — we  saw  all 
this ;  and  think  you  it  did  not  sink  into  our  hearts  ?  Fancy  if 
you  can  our  feelings  when  we  heard  that  yet  another  man  out 
of  five  was  respited  —  ah,  he  was  an  American,  gentlemen  —  an 
American,  not  an  Irishman  —  but  that  the  three  Irishmen,  Allen, 
Larkin,  and  O'Brien,  were  to  die — were  to  be  put  to  death  on  a 
verdict  and  on  evidence  that  would  not  hang  a  dog  in  England  !  We 
refused  to  the  last  to  credit  it ;  and  thus  incredulous,  deemed  it  idle 
to  make  any  effort  to  save  their  lives.  But  it  was  true  ;  it  was  r^eadly 
true.  And  then,  gentlemen,  the  doomed  three  appeared  in  a  new 
character.  Then  they  rose  into  the  dignity  and  heroism  of  martyrs. 
The  manner  in  which  they  bore  themselves  through  the  dreadful  or- 
deal ennobled  them  forever.  It  was  then  we  all  learned  to  love  and 
revere  them  as  patriots  and  Christians.  -^^  *  *  Yes ;  in  that 
hour  they  told  us  they  were  innocent,  but  were  ready  to  die  ;  and 
we   believed  them.     We  believe  them  still.       Aye,   do  we  !      They 


^QA  THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

did  not  go  to  meet  their  God  with  a  falsehood  on  their  lips.  On 
that  night  before  their  execution,  oh,  what  a  scene!  What  a  picture 
did  England  present  at  the  foot  of  the  Manchester  scaffold.' 
The  brutal  populace  thronged  thither  in  tens  of  thousands.  They 
danced  ;  they  sang  ;  they  blasphemed  ;  they  chorused  '  Rule  Bri- 
tannia,' and  '  God  save  the  Queen,'  by  way  of  taunt  and  defiance 
of  the  men  whose  death  agonies  they  had  come  to  see  !  Their  shouts 
and  brutal  cries  disturbed  the  doomed  victims  inside  the  prison,  as  in 
their  cells  they  prepared  in  prayer  and  meditation  to  meet  their 
Creator  and  their  God.  Twice  the  police  had  to  remove  the  crowd 
from  around  that  wing  of  the  prison  ;  so  that  our  poor  brothers  might 
in  peace  go  through  their  last  preparations  for  eternity,  undisturbed 
by  the  yells  of  the  multitude  outside.  Oh,  gentlemen,  gentlemen — 
that  scene  I  That  scene  in  the  grey  cold  morning,  when  those  inno- 
cent men  were  led  out  to  die — to  die  an  ignominious  death  before  that 
wolfish  mob  !  With  blood  on  fire — with  bursting  hearts — we  read  the 
dreadful  story  here  in  Ireland.  We  knew  that  these  men  would  never 
have  been  thus  sacrificed  had  not  their  offence  been  political,  and  had 
it  not  been  that  in  their  own  way  they  represented  the  old  struggle  of  the 
Irsh  race.  *  *  *  All  this  we  felt,  yet  we  were  silent  till  we  heard  the 
press  that  had  hounded  those  men  to  death  falsely  declaring  that  our  si- 
lence was  acquiescence  in  the  deed  that  consigned  them  to  muderers' 
graves.  Of  this  I  have  personal  knowledge,  that,  here  in  Dublin  at  least, 
nothing  was  done  or  intended,  until  the  Evenwg  Mail  declared  that 
popular  feeling,  which  had  ample  time  to  declare  itself,  if  it  felt  other- 
wise, quite  recognized  the  justice  of  the  execution.  Then  we  resolved 
to  make  answer.  Then  Ireland  made  answer.  For  what  monarch, 
the  loftiest  in  the  world,  would  such  demonstrations  be  made,  the 
voluntary  offerings  of  a  people's  grief!  Think  you  it  was  *  sympathy 
for  murder*  called  us  forth,  or  caused  the  priests  of  the  CathoHc 
Church  to  drape  their  churches?  It  is  a  libel  to  utter  the  base  charge. 
No,  no.  With  the  acts  of  those  men  at  that  rescue  we  had  nought  to 
say.  Of  their  innocence  of  murder  we  were  convinced.  Their  pa- 
triotic feelings,  their  religious  devotion,  we  saw  proved  in  the  noble, 
the  edifying  manner  of  their  death.  We  believed  them  to  have  been 
unjustly  sacrificed  in  a  moment  of  national  passion;  and  we  resolved 
to  rescue  their  memory  from  the  foul  stains  of  their  maligners,  and 
make  it  a  proud  one  forever  with  Irishmen.  Sympathy  with  murder, 
indeed!  What  I  am  about  to  say  will  be  believed;  for  I  think  I  have 
shown  no  fear  of  consequences  in  standing  by  my  acts  and  princi- 
ples— I  say  for  myself,  and  for  the  priests  and  people  of  Ireland,  who 
are  affected  by  this  case,  that  sooner  would  we  burn  our  right  hands 
to  cinders  than  to  express,  directly  or  indirectly,  sympathy  with  mur- 
der; and  that  our  sympathy  for  Allen,  Larkin,  and  O'Brien  is  based 
upon  the  conviction  that  they  were  innocent  of  any  such  crime. 

*    *    *     "Now,  gentlemen,  judge  ye  me  on  this  whole  case;  for  I 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN,  395 

have  done.  I  have  spoken  at  great  length,  but  I  plead  not  merely  my  own 
cause,  but  the  cause  of  uiy  country.  For  n.)  self,  I  care  little.  I  stand  be- 
fore you  here  with  the  manacles,  I  might  say,  on  my  hands.  Already  a 
prison  cell  awaits  me  in  Kilmainham.  My  doom,  in  any  event,  is  sealed. 
Already  a  conviction  has  been  obtained  against  me  for  my  opinions. 
*  *  *  Sedition,  in  a  rightly  ordered  community,  is  indeed  a  crime. 
But  who  is  it  that  challenges  me  ?  Who  is  it  that  demands  my 
loyalty?  Who  is  it  that  calls  out  to  me,  'Oh,  ingrate  son,  where 
is  the  filial  affection,  the  respect,  the  obedience,  the  support,  that  is 
my  due  ?  Unnatural,  seditious,  and  rebellious  child,  a  dungeon  shall 
punish  your  crime  !'  I  look  in  the  face  of  my  accuser,  who  thus 
holds  me  to  the  duty  of  a  son.  I  turn  to  see  if  there  I  can  recognize 
the  features  of  that  mother,  whom  indeed  I  love,  my  own  dear  Ire- 
land. I  look  into  that  accusing  face,  and  there  I  see  a  scowl,  and 
not  a  smile.  I  miss  the  soft,  fond  voice,  the  tender  clasp,  the  loving 
word.  I  look  upon  the  hands  reached  out  to  grasp  m.e — to  punish 
me;  and  lo,  great  stains,  blood-red,  upon  those  hands;  and  my  sad 
heart  tells  me  it  is  the  blood  of  my  widowed  mother,  Ireland.  Then 
I  answer  to  my  accusers — '  You  have  no  claim  on  me — on  my  love, 
my  duty,  my  allegiance.  You  are  not  my  mother.  You  sit  indeed 
in  the  place  where  she  should  reign.  You  wear  the  regal  garments 
torn  from  her  limbs,  while  she  now  sits  in  the  dust,  uncrowned  and 
overthrown,  and  bleeding,  from  many  a  wound.  But  my  heart  is  with 
her  still.  Her  claim  alone  is  recognized  by  me.  She  still  commands 
my  love,  my  duty,  my  allegiance;  and  whatever  the  penalty  may  be, 
be  it  prison  chains,  be  it  exile  or  death,  to  her  I  will  be  true  (applause).' 
But,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  what  is  that  Irish  nation  to  which  my 
allegiance  turns  ?  Do  I  thereby  mean  a  party,  or  a  class,  or  creed  ? 
Do  I  mean  only  those  who  think  and  feel  as  I  do  on  public  questions  ? 
Oh,  no.  It  is  the  whole  people  of  this  land — the  nobles,  the  peasants, 
the  clergy,  the  merchants,  the  gentry,  the  traders,  the  professions — 
the  Catholic,  the  Protestant,  the  Dissenter.  Yes.  I  am  loyal  to  all 
that  a  good  and  patriotic  citizen  should  be  loyal  to;  I  am  ready,  not 
merely  to  obey,  but  to  support  with  heartfelt  allegiance,  the  constitu- 
tion of  my  own  country — the  Queen  as  Queen  of  Ireland,  and  the  free 
Parliament  of  Ireland,  once  more  constituted  in  our  national  senate- 
house  in  College  Green.  And  reconstituted  once  more  it  will  be. 
In  that  hour  the  laws  will  again  be  reconciled  with  national  feeling 
and  popular  reverence.  In  that  hour  there  will  be  no  more  disesteem, 
or  hatred,  or  contempt  for  the  laws;  for,  howsoever  a  people  may  dis- 
like and  resent  laws  imposed  upon  them  against  their  will  by  a  sub- 
jugating power,  no  nation  disesteems  the  laws  of  its  own  making. 
That  day,  that  blessed  day,  of  peace  and  reconciliation,  and  joy,  and 
liberty,  I  hope  to  see.  And  when  it  comes,  as  come  it  will,  in  that 
hour  it  will  be  remembered  for  me,  that  I  stood  here  to  face  the  trying 
ordeal,  ready  to  suffer  for  my  country — walking  with  bared  feet  over 


396  ^^^   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 

red-hot  ploughshares,  like  the  victims  of  old.  Yes;  in  that  day  it  will 
be  remembered  for  me,  though  a  prison  awaits  me  now,  that  I  was 
one  of  those  journalists  of  the  people  who,  through  constant  sacrifice 
and  self-immolation,  fought  the  battle  of  the  people,  and  won  every 
vestige  of  liberty  rcmainmg  in  the  land." 

The  effect  of  this  spcjch  certainly  was  very  considerable. 
Mr.  Sullivan  spoke  for  upwards  of  two  hours  and  forty  min- 
utes, or  until  nearly  a  quarter  past  six  o'clock.  During  the 
delivery  of  his  address,  twilight  had  succeeded  daylight ;  the 
court  attendants,  later  still,  with  silent  step  and  taper  in  hand, 
stole  around  and  lit  the  chandeliers,  whose  glare  upon  the 
thousand  anxious  faces  below,  seemed  to  lend  a  still  more  im- 
pressive aspect  to  the  scene.  The  painful  idea  of  the  speaker's 
peril,  which  was  all-apparent  at  first  amongst  the  densely- 
packed  audience,  seemed  to  fade  away  by  degrees,  giving  place 
to  a  feeling  of  triumph,  as  they  listened  to  the  historical  narra- 
tive of  British  misrule  in  Ireland,  by  which  Irish  "  disesteem" 
for  Britibh  law  was  explained  and  justified,  and  later  on  to  the 
story  of  the  Manchester  tragedy  by  which  Irish  sympathy  with 
the  martyrs  was  completely  vindicated.  Again  and  again  in 
the  course  of  the  speech,  they  burst  into  applause,  regardless 
of  threatened  penalties ;  and  at  the  close  gave  vent  to  their 
feelings  in  a  manner  that  for  a  time  defied  all  repression. 

When  silence  was  restored,  the  court  was  formally  adjourned 
to  next  day,  Friday,  at  10  o'clock,  a.  m. 

The  morning  came,  and  with  it  another  throng;  for  it  was 
known  Mr.  Martin  would  now  speak  in  his  turn.  In  order, 
however,  that  his  speech,  which  was  sure  to  be  an  important 
one,  might  close  the  case  against  the  crown,  Mr.  Bracken,  on 
the  court  resuming,  put  in  his  defence  very  effectively  as 
follows : — 

"My  Lords, — I  would  say  a  word  or  two,  but  after  Mr.  Sullivan's 
grand  and  noble  speech  of  last  evening,  I  think  it  is  now  needless  on  my 
part.  I  went  to  the  procession  of  the  8th  of  December,  assured  that 
it  was  right,  from  reading  a  speech  of  the  Earl  of  Derby  in  the  news- 
papers.    There  was  a  sitting  of  the  Privy  Council  in  Dublin  on  the 


THE    WEARING  OF   THE   GREEN.  397 

day  before,  and  I  sat  in  my  shop  that  night  till  twelve  o'clock,  to  see 
if  the  procession  would  be  forbidden  by  the  government.  They,  how- 
ever, permitted  it  to  take  place,  and  I  attended  it,  fully  believing  I 
was  right.     That  is  all  I  have  to  say." 

This  short  speech — delivered  in  a  clear,  musical,  and  manly 
voice — put  the  whole  case  against  the  crown  in  a  nut-shell; 
the  appearance  of  the  speaker  too — a  fine,  handsome,  robust, 
and  well-built  man,  in  the  prime  of  life,  with  the  unmistakable 
stamp  of  honest  sincerity  on  his  countenance  and  in  his  eye — 
gave  his  words  greater  effect  with  the  audience ;  and  it  was 
very  audibly  murmured  on  all  sides  that  he  had  given  the  gov- 
ernment a  home-thrust  in  his  brief  but  telling  speech. 

Then  Mr.  Martin  rose.  After  leaving  court  the  previous 
evening  he  had  decided  to  commit  to  writing  what  he  intended 
to  say;  and  he  now  read  from  manuscript  his  address  to  the 
jury.  The  speech,  however,  lost  nothing  in  effect  by  this ;  for 
any  auditor  out  of  view  would  have  believed  it  to  have  been 
spoken,  as  he  usually  speaks,  extempore,  so  admirably  was  it 
delivered.     Mr.  Martin  said  : — 

"  My  Lords,  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury — I  am  going  to  trouble 
this  court  with  some  reply  to  the  charge  made  against  me  in  this  in- 
dictment. But  I  am  sorry  that  I  must  begin  by  protesting  that  I  do 
not  consider  myself  as  being  now  put  upon  my  country  to  be  tried  as 
the  constitution  requires — and,  therefore,  I  do  not  address  you  for 
my  legal  defence,  but  for  my  vindication  before  the  tribunal  of  con- 
science— a  far  more  awful  tribunal,  to  my  mind,  than  this.  Gentlemen, 
I  regard  you  as  twelve  of  my  fellow-countrymen,  known  or  believed 
by  my  prosecutors  to  be  my  political  opponents,  and  selected  for  this 
reason  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  conviction  against  me  in  form  of 
law.  Gentlemen,  I  have  not  the  smallest  purpose  of  casting  an  im- 
putation against  your  honesty,  or  the  honesty  of  my  prosecutors  who 
have  selected  you.  This  is  a  political  trial,  and  in  this  country  politi- 
cal trials  are  always  conducted  in  this  way.  It  is  considered  by  the 
crown  prosecutors  to  be  their  duty  to  exclude  from  the  jury-box  every 
juror  known,  or  suspected,  to  hold  or  agree  with  the  accused  in 
political  sentiment.  Now,  gentlemen,  I  have  not  the  least  objection 
to  see  men  of  the  most  opposite  political  sentiments  to  mine,  placed 
in  the  jury-box  to  try  me,  provided  they  be  placed  there  as  the  con- 
stitution commands — provided  they  are  twelve  of  my  neighbors  in- 
ditferently  chosen.    As  a  loyal  citiz^i  I  am  willing  and  desirous  Xm 


^n8  ^^^  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

be  put  upon  my  country,  and  fairly  tried  before  any  twelve  of  my 
countrymen,  no  matter  what  may  happen  to  be  the  political  sentiments 
of  any  of  them.  But  I  am  sorry  and  indignant  that  this  is  not  such 
a  trial.  This  system  by  which,  over  and  over  again,  loyal  sub- 
jects of  the  Queen  in  Ireland  are  condemned  in  form  of  law 
for  seeking,  by  such  means  as  the  constitution  warrants,  to  restore  her 
Majesty's  kingdom  of  Ireland  to  the  enjoyment  of  its  national  rights — 
this  system  of  selecting  anti-Repealers,  and  excluding  Repealers 
from  the  jury  box,  when  a  Repealer  like  me  is  to  be  tried,  is  cal- 
culated to  bring  the  administration  of  justice  into  disesteem,  dis- 
repute, and  hatred.  I  here  protest  against  it.  My  lords,  and  gen- 
tlemen  of  the  jury,  before  I  offer  any  reply  to  the  charges  in  this  in- 
dictment, and  the  further  development  of  those  charges  made  yesterday 
by  the  learned  gentleman  whose  official  duty  it  was  to  argue  the  gov- 
ernment's case  against  me,  I  wish  to  apologize  to  the  court  for  de- 
clining to  avail  iXiyself  of  the  professional  assistance  of  the  bar  upon 
this  occasion.  It  is  not  through  any  want  of  respect  for  the  noble 
profession  of  the  bar  that  I  decline  that  assistance.  I  regard  the 
duties  of  a  lawyer  as  among  the  most  respectable  that  a  citizen  can 
undertake.  His  education  has  taught  him  to  investigate  the  origin,  and 
to  understand  the  principles  of  law,  and  the  true  nature  of  loyalty. 
He  has  had  to  consider  how  the  interests  of  individual  citizens  may 
harmonize  with  the  interests  of  the  community,  how  justice  and  liberty 
may  be  united,  how  the  state  may  have  both  order  and  contentment. 
The  application  of  the  knowledge  which  he  has  gained  from  the  study 
of  law  to  the  daily  facts  of  human  society — sharpens  and  strengthens 
all  his  faculties,  clears  his  judgment,  helps  him  to  distinguish  true 
from  false,  and  right  from  wrong. 

**  It  is  no  wonder,  gentlemen,  that  an  accomplished  and  virtuous 
lawyer  holds  a  high  place  in  the  aristocracy  of  merit  in  every  free 
country.  Like  all  things  human,  the  legal  profession  has  its  dark  as 
well  as  its  bright  side,  has  in  it  germs  of  decay  and  rotten  foulness,  as  well 
as  of  health  and  beauty  ;  but  yet,  it  is  a  noble  profession,  and  one  which 
I  admire  and  respect.  But,  above  all,  I  would  desire  to  respect  the 
bar  of  my  own  country,  and  the  Irish  bar — the  bar  made  illustrious 
by  such  memories  as  those  of  Grattan  and  Flood,  and  the  Emmets, 
and  Curran,  and  Plunket,  and  Sourin,  and  Holmes,  and  Shell,  and 
O'Connell.  I  may  add,  too,  of  Buike,  and  of  Sheridan,  for  they 
were  Irish  in  all  that  made  them  great.  The  bar  of  Ireland  wants 
this  day  only  the  ennobling  inspirations  of  national  freedom  to 
raise  it  to  a  level  with  the  world.  Under  the  Union  very  few 
lawyers  have  been  produced  whose  names  can  rank  in  history  with 
any  of  the  great  names  I  have  mentioned.  *  *  *  But  to  this 
attack  upon  my  character  as  a  good  citizen,  and  upon  my  liberty,  my 
-iofds,  and  gentlemen,  the  only  defence  I  could  permit  to  be  offered 
would  be  a  full  justification  of  my  political  conduct,  morally,  con- 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


399 


stitutionally,  legally — a  complete  vindication  of  my  acts  and  words, 
alleged  to  be  seditious  and  disloyal,  and  to  retort  against  my  ac- 
cusers the  charge  of  sedition  and  disloyalty.  Not,  indeed,  that  I 
would  desire  to  prosecute  these  gentlemen  upon  that  charge,  if 
I  could  count  upon  convicting  them  and  sending  them  to  the  dun- 
geon instead  of  myself.  I  don't  desire  to  silence  them,  or  to  hurt  a 
hair  of  their  wigs,  because  their  political  opinions  differed  from  mine. 
Gentlemen,  this  prosecution  against  me,  like  the  prosecutions  just 
accomplished  against  two  national  newspapers,  is  part  of  a  scheme 
of  the  ministers  of  the  crown  for  suppressing  all  voice  of  protest 
against  the  Union,  for  suppressing  all  public  complaint  against  the 
deadly  results  of  the  Union,  and  all  advocacy  by  act,  speech,  or 
writing  for  Repeal  of  the  Union.  Now,  I  am  a  Repealer  so  long  as  I 
have  been  a  politician  at  all — that  is  for  at  least  twenty-four  years 
past.  Until  the  national  self-government  of  my  country  be  first  re- 
stored, there  appears  to  me  to  be  no  place,  no  locus  standi  (as  lawyers 
say),  for  any  other  Irish  political  question,  and  I  consider  it  to  be  my 
duty  as  a  patriotic  and  loyal  citizen,  to  endeavor  by  all  honorable  and 
prudent  means  to  procure  the  Repeal  of  the  act  of  Union,  and  the  re- 
storation of  the  independent  Irish  government,  of  which  my  country 
was  (as  I  have  said  in  my  prosecuted  speech),  *  by  fraud  and  force,* 
and  against  the  will  of  the  vast  majority  of  its  people  of  every  race,  creed, 
and  class,  though  under  false  form  of  law,  deprived  sixty-seven  years 
ago.  *  *  *  Now,  gentlemen,  such  being  my  convictions,  were 
I  to  entrust  my  defence  in  this  court  to  a  lawyer,  he  must  speak  as  a 
Repealer,  not  only  for  me,  but  for  himself,  not  only  as  a  professional 
advocate,  but  as  a  man,  and  from  the  heart.  I  cannot  doubt  but  that 
there  are  very  many  Irish  lawyers  who  privately  share  my  convictions 
about  Repeal.  Believing  aj  I  do  in  my  heart  and  conscience,  and  with 
all  the  force  of  the  mind  that  God  has  given  me,  that  Repeal  is  the 
right  and  the  only  right  policy  for  Ireland — for  healing  all  the  wounds 
of  our  community,  all  our  sectarian  feuds,  all  our  national  shame,  suf- 
fering, and  peril— for  making  our  country  peaceful,  industrious,  prosper- 
ous, respectable,  and  happy — I  cannot  doubt  but  that  in  the  enlightened 
profession  of  the  bar  there  must  be  very  many  Irishmen  who,  like  me, 
consider  Repeal  to  be  right,  and  best,  and  necessary  for  the  public  good. 
But,  gentlemen,  ever  since  the  Union,  by  fraud  and  force,  and  against 
the  will  of  the  Irish  people,  was  enacted — ever  since  that  act  of 
usurpation  by  the  English  Parliament  of  the  sovereign  rights  of  the 
queen,  lords,  and  commons  of  Ireland — ever  since  this  country  was 
thereby  rendered  the  subject,  instead  of  the  sister  of  England — ever 
since  the  Union,  but  especially  for  about  twenty  years  past,  it  has 
been  the  policy  of  those  who  have  got  possession  of  the  sovereign 
rights  of  the  Irish  crown  to  appoint  to  all  places  of  public  trust,  em- 
olument, or  honor  in  Ireland  only  such  men  as  would  submit,  whether 
by  parole,  or  by  tacit  understanding,  to  suppress  all  public  utteranci 


40O 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEI^. 


of  their  desire  for  the  Repeal  o(  the  Union.  Such  has  been  the  pen 
sistent  policy  towards  this  country  of  those  who  command  all  the 
patronage  of  the  Irish  offices,  paid  and  unpaid — the  policy  of  all  En- 
glish ministers,  whether  Whig  or  Tory.  Combined  with  the  disposal  of 
the  public  forces — such  a  policy  is  naturally  very  effective  in  not  really 
reconciling,  but  in  keeping  Ireland  quietly  subject  to  the  Union.  It  is  a 
hard  trial  of  men's  patriotism  to  be  debarred  from  all  career  of  profit- 
able and  honorable  distinction  in  the  public  service  of  their  own  country. 
*  *  *  "I  shall  trouble  you  for  a  short  time  longer,  while  1 
endeavor  to  show  that  I  have  not  acted  in  a  way  unbecoming  a 
good  citizen.  The  charge  against  me  in  this  indictment,  is  that  I 
took  a  part  in  the  illegal  procession  and  violated  the  statue  en- 
titled the  Party  Processions  act.  His  J<)rdship  enumerated  seven 
conditions,  the  violation  of  some  one  of  vhich  is  necessary  to  ren- 
der an  assembly  illegal  at  common  law.  These  seven  conditions  are 
— I.  That  the  persons  forming  the  assembly  met  to  carry  out  an  un- 
lawful purpose.  2.  That  the  numbers  in  ivhich  the  persons  met 
eridingered  the  public  peace.  3.  That  the  assembly  caused  alarm 
to  the  peaceful  subjects  of  the  Queen.  4.  That  the  assembly 
created  disaffection.  5.  That  the  assembly  incited  her  Majesty's 
Irish  subjects  to  hate  her  Majesty's  English  s*\bjects — his  lordship 
did  not  say  anything  to  the  case  of  an  assembly  inciting  the  Queen's 
English  subjects  to  hate  the  Queen's  Irish  subjects,  but  no  such 
case  is  likely  to  be  tried  here.  6.  That  the  assembly  intended 
to  asperse  the  right  and  constitutional  administration  of  justice; 
and  7.  That  the  assembly  intended  to  impair  the  functions  of  jus- 
tice and  to  bring  the  administration  of  justice  into  disrepute.  I 
say  that  the  procession  of  the  8th  of  December  did  not  violate  any 
one  of  these  conditions — i.  In  the  first  place,  the  persons  forming 
that  procession  did  not  meet  to  carry  out  any  unlawful  purpose — 
their  purpose  was  peaceably  to  express  their  opinion  upon  a  public 
act  of  the  public  servants  of  the  crown.  2.  In  the  second  place, 
the  numbers  in  which  those  persons  met  did  not  endanger  the  pub- 
lic peace.  None  of  those  persons  carried  arms.  Thousands  of 
those  persons  were  women  and  children.  There  was  no  injury  or 
offence  attempted  to  be  committed  against  anybody,  and  no  dis- 
turbance of  the  peace  took  place.  3.  In  the  third  place,  the  assem- 
bly caused  no  alarm  to  the  peaceable  subjects  of  the  Queen — there 
is  not  a  tittle  of  evidence  to  that  effect.  4.  In  the  fourth  place,  the 
assembly  did  not  create  disaffection,  neither  was  it  intended  or  cal- 
culated to  create  disaffection.  On  the  contrary,  the  assembly  served 
to  give  peaceful  expression  to  the  opinion  entertained  by  vast 
numbers  of  her  Majesty's  peaceful  subjects  upon  a  public  act 
of  the  servants  of  the  crown,  an  act  which  vast  numbers  of  the 
Queen's  subjects  regretted  and  condemned.  And  thus  the  assembly 
ivas  calculated  to  prevent  or  remote  disaffection.     For  such  oper  '»^'J 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN.  4OI 

peaceful  manifestations  of  the  real  opinions  of  the  Queen's  subjects 
upon  public  affairs  is  the  proper,  safe,  and  constitutional  way  in  which 
they  may  aid  to  prevent  disaffection.  5.  In  the  fifth  place,  the  assem- 
bly did  not  incite  the  Irish  subjects  of  the  Queen  to  hate  her  Ma- 
jesty's English  subjects.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  proper  constitu- 
tional way  of  bringing  about  a  right  understanding  upon  a  transac- 
tion, which,  if  not  fairly  and  fully  explained  and  set  right,  must 
produce  hatred  between  the  two  peoples.  That  transaction  was 
calculated  to  produce  hatred.  But  those  who  protest  peaceably 
against  such  a  transaction  are  not  the  party  to  be  blamed,  but  those 
responsible  for  the  transaction.  6.  In  the  sixth  place,  the  assem- 
bly had  no  purpose  of  aspersing  the  right  and  constitutional  ad- 
ministration of  justice.  Its  tendency  was  peaceably  to  point  out 
faults  in  the  conduct  of  the  servants  of  the  crown,  charged  with 
the  administration  of  justice,  whose  faults  were  calculated  to  bring 
the  administration  of  justice  into  disrepute.  7.  Nor,  in  the  seventh 
place,  did  the  assembly  impair  the  functions  of  justice,  or  intend  or 
tend  to  do  so.  Even  my  prosecutors  do  not  allege  that  judicial  tri- 
bunals are  infallible.  It  would  be  too  absurd  to  make  such  an  alle- 
gation in  plain  words.  It  is  admitted  on  all  hands  that  judges  have 
sometimes  given  wrong  directions,  that  juries  have  given  wrong  ver- 
dicts, that  courts  of  justice  have  wrongfully  appreciated  the  whole 
matter  for  trial.  When  millions  of  the  Queen's  subjects  think  that 
such  wrong  has  been  done,  is  it  sedition  for  them  to  say  so  peaceably 
and  publicly?  On  the  contrary,  the  constitutional  way  for  good 
citizens  to  act  in  striving  to  keep  the  administration  of  justice  pure 
and  above  suspicion  of  unfairness,  is  by  such  open  and  peaceable  pro- 
tests. Thus,  and  thus  only,  may  the  functions  of  justice  be  saved 
from  being  impaired.  In  this  case  wrong  had  been  done.  Five  men 
had  been  tried  together  upon  the  same  evidence,  and  convicted  to- 
gether upon  that  evidence,  and  while  one  of  the  five  was  acknowl- 
edged by  the  crown  to  be  innocent,  and  the  whole  conviction  was  thus 
acknowledged  to  be  wrong  and  invalid,  three  of  the  five  men  were 
hanged  upon  that  conviction.  My  friend,  Mr.  Sullivan,  in  his  eloquent 
and  unanswerable  speech  of  yesterday,  has  so  clearly  demonstrated 
the  facts  of  that  unhappy  and  digraceful  affair  of  Manchester,  that  I 
shall  merely  say  of  it,  that  I  adopt  every  word  he  spoke  upon  the  sub- 
ject for  mine,  and  to  justify  the  sentiment  and  purpose  with  which  I 
engaged  in  the  procession  of  the  8th  of  December.  I  say  persons  re- 
sponsible for  that  transaction  are  fairly  liable  to  the  charge  of  act- 
ing so  as  to  bring  the  administration  of  justice  into  contempt,  unless, 
gentlemen,  you  hold  those  persons  to  be  infallible,  and  hold  that  they 
can  do  no  wrong.  But,  gentlemen,  the  constitution  does  not  say  that 
the  servants  of  the  crown  can  do  no  wrong.  According  to  the  con- 
ititution,  the  sovereign  can  do  no  wrong,  but  her  servants  may.  In 
this  case  they  have  done  wrong. 


403 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


*    *    *     "By  indicting  me  for  the  expression  of  that  opinion  the 

public  prosecutors  virtually  indict  some  millions  of  theQueen's  peace- 
able Irish  subjects.  It  is  only  the  convenience  of  this  court — which 
could  not  hold  the  millions  in  one  batch  of  traversers,  and  which 
would  require  daily  sittings  for  several  successive  years  to  go  through 
the  proper  formalities  for  duly  trying  all  those  millions ;  it  is  only 
the  convenience  of  this  court  that  can  be  pretended  to  relieve  the  crown 
prosecutors  from  the  duty  of  trying  and  convicting  all  those  millions, 
if  it  is  their  duty  to  try  and  convict  me.  *  *  *  And  to  select 
one  man,  or  six  men  for  trial,  condemnation,  and  punishment, 
out  of,  say,  four  millions  who  have  really  participated  in  the  same 
alleged  wicked,  malicious,  seditious,  evil-disposed,  and  unlawful 
proceeding,  is  unfair  to  the  six  men,  and  unfair  to  the  other 
3,999,994  men — is  a  dereliction  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  officers  of 
the  law,  and  is  calculated  to  bring  the  adminstration  of  justice  into 
disrepute.  Equal  justice  is  what  the  constitution  demands.  Under 
military  anthority  an  army  may  be  decimated,  and  a  few  offenders 
may  properly  be  punished,  while  the  rest  are  left  unpunished.  But 
under  a  free  constitution  it  is  not  so.  Whoever  breaks  the  law  must 
be  made  amenable  to  punishment,  or  equal  justice  is  not  rendered  to 
the  subjects  of  the  Queen.  It  is  not  pertinent,  therefore,  gentlemen, 
for  me  to  say  to  you,  this  is  an  unwise  proceeding  which  my  prosecu- 
tors bid  you  to  sanction  by  a  verdict.  I  have  heard  it  asked  by  a 
lawyer  addressing  the  court,  as  a  question  that  must  be  answered  in 
the  negative^ — can  you  indict  a  whole  nation  ?  If  such  a  proceeding 
as  this  prosecution  against  the  peaceable  procession  of  the  8th  of  De- 
cember receives  the  sanction  of  your  verdict,  that  question  must  be 
answered  in  the  affirmative.  It  will  need  only  a  crown  prosecutor,  an 
Attorney-General,  and  a  Solicitor-General,  two  judges,  and  twelve 
jurors,  all  of  the  one  mind,  while  all  the  other  subjects  of  the  Queen 
in  Ireland  are  of  a  different  mind,  and  the  five  millions  and  a-half  of 
the  Queen's  subjects  of  Ireland  outside  that  circle  of  seventeen  of  hei 
Majesty's  subjects,  may  be  indicted,  convicted,  and  consigned  to 
penal  imprisonment  in  due  form  of  law — as  law  is  understood  in  poli- 
tical trials  in  Ireland.  *  *  *  The  learned  judge  in  his  charge 
told  the  grand  jury  that  under  this  act  all  processions  are  illegal 
which  carry  weapons  of  offence,  or  which  carry  symbols  calculated  to 
promote  the  animosity  of  some  other  class  of  her  Majesty's  subjects. 
Applying  the  law  to  this  case,  his  lordship  remarked  that  the  procession 
of  the  8th  of  December  had  something  of  military  array — that  is,  they 
went  in  regular  order,  with  a  regular  step.  But,  gentlemen,  there  were 
no  arms  in  that  procession,  there  were  no  symbols  in  that  procession,  in- 
tended or  calculated  to  provoke  animosity  in  any  other  class  of  the 
Queen's  subjects,  or  in  any  human  creature.  There  was  neither  symbol, 
Dor  deed,  or  word  intended  to  provoke  animosity.  And  as  to  the 
military  array — is  it  not  absurd  to  attribute  a  warlike  character  to  an 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN 


403 


unarmed  and  perfectly  peaceful  assemblage,  in  which  there  were  some 
thousands  of  women  and  children  ?  No  offence  was  given  or  offered 
any  human  berng.     *     *     * 

**  The  speech  delivered  on  that  occasion  is  an  important  element  in 
forming  a  judgment  upon  the  character  and  object  of  the  procession. 
The  speech  declared  the  procession  to  be  a  peaceable  expression  of 
the  opinion  of  those  who  composed  it  upon  an  important  public  trans- 
action, an  expression  of  sorrow  and  indignation  at  an  act  of  the  min- 
isters of  the  government.  It  was  a  protest  against  that  act — a  protest 
which  those  who  disapproved  of  it  were  entitled  by  the  constitution 
to  make,  and  which  they  made,  peaceably  and  legitimately.  Has  not 
every  individual  of  the  millions  of  the  Queen's  subjects  the  right  to 
say  openly  whether  he  approves  or  disapproves  of  any  public  act  of 
the  Queen's  ministers?  Have  not  all  the  Queen's  subjects  the  right  to 
say  so  together,  if  they  can  without  disturbance  of  the  Queen's  peace  ? 
The  procession  enabled  many  thousands  to  do  that  without  the  least 
inconvenience  or  danger  to  themselves,  and  with  no  injury  or  offense  to 
their  neighbors.  To  prohibit  or  punish  peaceful,  inoffensive,  orderly, 
and  perfectly  innocent  processions  upon  pretence  that  they  are  con- 
structively unlawful,  is  unconstitutional  tyranny.  *  *  *  j  would 
not  have  held  the  procession,  had  I  not  understood  that  it  was 
permitted.  But  understanding  that  it  was  permitted,  and  so  believ- 
ing that  it  might  serve  the  people  for  a  safe  and  useful  expression 
of  their  sentiment,  I  held  the  procession.  I  did  not  hold  the  proces- 
sion because  I  believed  it  to  be  illegal,  but  because  I  believed  it  to  be 
legal,  and  understood  it  to  be  permitted.  *  *  *  Gentlemen  of  the 
jury,  I  have  said  enough  to  convince  any  twelve  reasonable  men  that 
there  was  nothing  in  my  conduct  in  the  matter  of  that  procession  which 
you  can  declare  on  your  oaths  to  be  '  malicious,  seditious,  ill-disposed, 
and  intended  to  disturb  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  the  realm.'  I  shall 
trouble  you  no  further,  except  by  asking  you  to  listen  to  the  summing 
up  of  indictment,  and,  while  you  listen,  to  judge  between  me  and  the 
Attorney-General.  I  shall  read  you  my  words  and  his  comment. 
Judge,  Irish  jurors,  which  of  us  two  is  guilty  : — '  Let  us,  therefore, 
conclude  this  proceeding  by  joining  heartily,  with  hats  off,  in  the 
prayer  of  those  three  men — "God  save  Ireland."  '  '  Thereby,*  says 
the  Attorney-General  in  his  indictment,  'meaning,  and  intending  to 
excite  hatred,  dislike,  and  animosity  against  her  Majesty  and  the 
government,  and  bring  into  contempt  the  administration  of  justice 
and  the  laws  of  this  realm,  and  cause  strife  and  hatred  between  her 
Majesty's  subjects  in  Ireland  and  in  England,  and  to  excite  discon* 
ent  and  disaffection  against  her  Majesty's  government.'  Gentlemen, 
t  have  now  done." 

Mr.  Martin  sat  down,  amidst  loud  and  prolonged  applause. 

This  splendid  argument,  close,  searching,  irresistible,  gav« 


404  ^-^^   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 

the  coup  de  grace  to  the  crown  case.  The  prisoners  having 
called  no  evidence,  according  to  honorable  custom  having  aU 
most  the  force  of  law,  the  prosecution  was  disentitled  to  any 
rejoinder.  Nevertheless,  the  crown  put  up  its  ablest  speaker 
— a  man  far  surpassing  in  attainments  as  a  lawyer  and  an  ora- 
tor both  the  Attorney  and  Solicitor-General — Mr.  Ball,  Q.C., 
to  press  against  the  accused  that  technical  right  which  honora- 
ble usage  reprehended  as  unfair!  No  doubt  the  crown  authori- 
ties felt  it  was  not  a  moment  in  which  they  could  afford  to  be 
squeamish  or  scrupulous.  The  speeches  of  Mr.  Sullivan  and 
Mr.  Martin  had  had  a  visible  effect  upon  the  jury — had,  in 
fact,  made  shreds  of  the  crown  case  ;  and  so  Mr.  Ball  was  put 
up  as  the  last  hope  of  averting  the  '*  disaster"  of  a  failure. 
He  spoke  with  his  accustomed  ability  and  dignity,  and 
made  a  powerful  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  crown.  Then 
Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  proceeded  to  charge  the  jury,  which 
he  did  in  his  peculiarly  calm,  precise,  and  perspicuous 
style.  At  the  outset,  referring  to  the  protest  of  the  accused 
against  the  conduct  of  the  crown  in  the  jury  challenges,  he  ad- 
ministered a  keen  rebuke  to  the  government  officials.  It  was, 
he  said,  no  doubt  the  strict  legal  right  of  the  crown  to  act  as  it 
had  done  ;  yet,  considering  that  this  was  a  case  in  which  the  ac- 
cused was  accorded  no  corresponding  privilege,  the  exercise  of 
that  right  in  such  a  manner  by  the  crown  certainly  was,  in  his, 
Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald's,  estimation,  a  subject  for  grave  objection. 

Here  there  was  what  the  newspaper  reporters  call  '*  sensa- 
tion in  court."  What !  Had  it  come  to  this,  that  one  of  the 
chief  institutions  of  the  land — a  very  pillar  of  the  crown  and 
government— namely,  jury-packing,  was  to  be  reflected  upon 
from  the  bench  itself.     Monstrous  ! 

The  charge,  though  mild  in  language,  was  pretty  sharp  on 
the  "  criminality"  of  such  conduct  as  was  imputed  to  the  accused, 
yet  certainly  left  some  margin  to  the  jury  for  the  exercise  of 
their  opinion  upon  "■  the  law  and  the  facts." 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  jury  retired  to  consider 
their  verdict,  and  as  the  judcres  at  the  same  moment  withdrew 


THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 


405 


to  their  chamber,  the  pent-up  feelings  of  the  crowded  audience 
instantly  found  vent  in  loud  Babel-like  expressions  and  inter- 
change of  comments  on  the  charge,  and  conjectures  as  to  the 
result.  "  Waiting  for  the  verdict"  is  a  scene  that  has  often 
been  described  and  painted.  Every  one  of  course  concluded 
that  half-an-hour  would  in  any  case  elapse  before  the  anxiously 
watched  jury-room  door  would  open ;  but  when  the  clock 
hands  neared  three,  suspense,  intense  and  painful,  became  more 
and  more  visible  in  every  countenance.  It  seemed  to  be  only 
now  that  men  fully  realized  all  that  was  at  stake,  all  that  was 
in  peril,  on  this  trial !  A  conviction  in  this  case  rendered  the  na- 
tional color  of  Ireland  forever  more  an  illegal  and  forbidden  em- 
blem !  A  conviction  in  this  case  would  degrade  the  symbol 
of  nationality  into  a  badge  of  faction !  To  every  fevered, 
anxious  mind  at  this  moment  rose  the  dark,  troubled  memories 
of  gloomy  times — the  "  dark  and  evil  days"  chronicled  in  that 
popular  ballad,  the  music  and  words  of  which  now  seemed  to 
haunt  the  watchers  in  the  court : — 

"Oh,  Patrick,  dear,  and  did  you  hear 

The  news  that's  going  round  ? 
The  shamrock  is  by  law  forbid 

To  grow  on  Irish  ground.  • 

No  more  St.  Patrick's  day  we'll  keep— 

His  color  can't  be  seen, 
For  there's  a  bloody  law  against 

The  Wearing  of  the  Green." 

But  hark!  There  is  a  noise  at  the  jury-room  door!  It 
opens — the  jury  enter  the  box.  A  murmur  swelling  to  almost 
a  roar,  from  the  crowded  audience,  is  instantly  followed  by  a 
deathlike  stillness.  The  judges  are  called ;  but  by  this  time 
it  is  noticed  that  the  foreman  has  not  the  '*  issue-paper"  ready 
to  hand  down ;  and  a  buzz  goes  round — ^'  a  question  ;  a  ques- 
tion !'*     It  is  even  so.    The  foreman  asks : — 

Whether,  if  they  believe  the  speech  of  Mr.  Martin  to  be  in  itself 
seditious,  should  they  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  assemblage  was 
seditious? 


40^  THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN, 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  answers  iit  the  negative^  and  a  thrill 
goes  through  the  audience.  Nor  is  this  all.  One  of  the  jurors 
declares  there  is  no  chance  whatever  of  their  agreeing  to  a 
verdict ! 

Almost  a  cheer  breaks  out.  The  judge,  however,  de- 
clares they  must  retire  again  ;  which  the  jury  do,  very  reluct- 
antly and  doggedly;  in  a  word,  very  unlike  men  likely  to 
**  persuade  one  another." 

When  the  judges  again  leave  the  bench  for  their  chamber, 
the  crowd  in  court  give  way  outright  to  joy.  Every  face  is 
bright;  every  heart  is  light ;  jokes  go  round,  and  there  is  great 
''  chaff"  of  the  crown  officials,  and  of  the  ''  polis,"  who,  poor 
fellows,  to  tell  the  truth,  seem  to  be  as  glad  as  the  gladdest  in 
the  throng.  Five  o'clock  arrives — half-past  five— the  jury 
must  surely  be  out  soon  now.  At  a  quarter  to  six  they 
come ;  and  for  an  instant  the  joke  is  hushed,  and  cheeks 
suddenly  grow  pale  with  fear,  lest  by  any  chance  it  might  be 
evil  news.  But  the  faces  of  the  jurymen  tell  plainly  "  no 
verdict."  The  judges  are  again  seated.  The  usual  questions 
in  such  cases ;  the  usual  answers.  "  No  hope  whatever  oS 
an  agreement."  Then,  after  reference  to  the  Solicitor- 
General,  who,  in  sepulchral  tone,  *'  supposes"  there  is  "  nothing 
for  it"  but  to  discharge  the  jury,  his  lordship  declares  the 
jury  discharged. 

Like  a  volley  there  burst  a  wild  cheer,  a  shout,  that  shook 
the  building !  Again  and  again  it  was  renewed ;  and,  being 
caught  up  by  the  crowd  outside,  sent  the  tidings  of  victory 
with  electrical  rapidity  through  the  city.  Then  there  was  a 
rush  at  Mr.  Martin  and  Mr.  Sullivan.  The  former  especially 
was  clasped,  embraced,  and  borne  about  by  the  surging  throng, 
wild  with  joy.  It  was  with  considerable  difficulty  any  of  the 
traversers  could  get  away,  so  demonstrative  was  the  multitude 
in  the  streets.  Throughout  the  city  the  event  was  hailed  with 
rejoicing,  and  the  names  of  the  jurymen,  ''good  and  bad," 
were  vowed  to  perpetual  benediction.  For  once,  at  least, 
justice  had  triumphed  ;  or.  rather,  injustice  had  been  balked. 


THE   WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 


Af>7 


^<Jf^  once,  at  least,  the  people  had  won  the  day;  and  the 
British  government  had  received  a  signal  overthrow  in  its 
endeavor  to  proscribe — 

"The  Wearing  of  the  Green." 


For  one  of  the  actors  in  the  above-described  memorable 
scene,  the  victory  purchased  but  a  few  hours'  safety.  Next 
morning  Mr.  A.  M.  Sullivan  was  placed  again  at  the  bar  to  hear 
his  sentence — that  following  upon  the  first  of  the  prosecutions 
hurled  against  him  (the  press  prosecution),  on  which  he  had 
been  found  guilty.  Again  the  court  was  crowded — this  time 
with  anxious  faces,  devoid  of  hope.  It  was  a  brief  scene.  Mr. 
Justice  Fitzgerald  announced  the  sentence — six  months  in  Rich^ 
mond  prison  ;  and  amidst  a  farewell  demonstration  that  com- 
pelled the  business  of  the  court  to  be  temporarily  suspended, 
the  officials  led  away  in  custody  the  only  one  of  the  prosecuted 
processionists  who  expiated  by  punishment  his  sympathy  with 
the  fate  of  the  Martyred  Three  of  Manchester. 

BNIX 


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UNIVERSITY  PRODUCTS,  INC.    #859-5503 

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